


A Brand in The Fire

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:47:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 45,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11917350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: All Jim ever wanted to be was a soldier in the Kings Guard. Yet trapped by his indentured servitude to the church and a blacksmith his aspirations are improbably. Until he meets a Kings Guard Calvary officer (Harvey).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Universe both based on human history and made up civilization/world. Everyone needs a dose of swords and medieval backdrops in their lives to remember how good we have it now. ;) 
> 
> All mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out so I can fix them. All kudos, comments, criticizes, suggestions and requests welcome.
> 
> To my wife who is love.

**A Brand in The Fire**

Chapter 1: A Promising Day

The sun wasn’t even up yet but the chickens to the northwest of the Smithy were overly anxious to see it rise. At least the rooster was, and Jim opened his eyes to see the last of the stars fading between the slats in the roof boards. He rolled and sat up on his straw mattress and scratched his hands through his short-cropped hair to stimulate his thoughts into functioning coherently. All it did was soothe any itch from parasites that had nibbled at him in the night. He rose and pulled on his trousers and tucked in the tails of his shirt. Next, he pulled on his boots and then crawled out of the loft window onto the first story roof. It was an easy step off onto the coal piles and from there to the mud that was half dried.   Because of that it didn’t squelch so loudly when he walked. He headed inside the forge, the heat blasting off the fires like a wall of bricks made from the sun.  Jovens; his metal works master; liked to keep at least one fire always fed and Jim wasted no time in shoveling fuel into the main forge. The secondary forge was also lit and Jim figured Jovens had done so before bed, expecting they begin on the King’s tribute today. Or the ornate piece for one of the King’s guard perhaps; either way it was going to be a busy day.

 

Primary tasks completed, Jim ducked out of the Smithy and strode just a single dung and waddle building down to a rain barrel. Removing the lid, he dunked his head deeply into the recycled water. He scrubbed his face and head before surfacing for a breath, having counted off the time in his head that he must have been under the surface. Spraying wet water in to the slight chill of the morning air, Jim wrung out his shirt collar and front before replacing the lid. Next, he wove his way through the nearly deserted back allies, until he reached the main square. In its center was a fountain built long ago for travelers in the area before the settlement grew around it. No water ran from its spouts any longer and Jim had often wondered what it would have looked like in hit’s splendid days, water dancing enticingly to the weary and thirsty on their way to the King’s hearth. Now, it was merely a standing pool that overflowed when it rained, and was replenished like the water barrels outside many doors of the settlement.

 

Jim washed his hands a final time and straightened his clothes. Passing a market stall, he snagged an apple and left a coin in its place. The apple he pocketed and at the next stall which was manned, he was traded a small wedge of cheese for his help to hoist a new wheel onto the cutting block. He bade the merchant selling luck and turned north taking a slope away from the settlement and to the watch hill where the stone church stood. As far as church structures went it was small, nothing grand like those he had heard of in the distant cities, or even the one by the King’s hearth. What it lacked in ostentatiousness it made up for in purpose and Jim navigated around to the west corner. He sidestepped the garden and sheep pen and made straight to the hen house. He munched on the cheese as he collected eggs into the gather basket, before making his way to the side entrance of the building. He entered a kitchen, where a few monks were preparing the morning meal. Jim placed the basket down and slipped the remainder of his cheese to one of the monks and addressed the other, “Is he praying?”

The monk sighed plaintively. “Every morning you ask and every morning the answer is the same; Father Ricktius is as he always is. I’m surprised that Jovens hasn’t put the whip to you for all the good your muddled brain does!”

Jim merely offered the monk a sardonic smirk and walked out of the kitchen, through the dining chamber, and out into the main body of the church. He silenced his steps the best he was able and moved slowly towards the front where Father Ricktius knelt in prayer. The old man’s lips moved silently with his earnest words and they stopped as soon as Jim reached him. He raised his near balled head and looked at Jim; his blond hair and impossibly blue eyes. He wondered if not for the first time how someone with so much beauty on the outside could think to waste their life with the foolhardy dreams that filled Jim’s mind.  He had all the makings of a good officiate of the church, yet he lacked the one thing that was fundamental to every Brother’s endeavor; faith in the gods.

“You are late.”

“I’m on time enough.” Jim corrected taking the apple out of his pocket and taking a bite. He chewed carefully and Father Ricktius grunted in disapproval.

“You, are, late.” Father Ricktius insisted once more as he rose to stand. “Brother Melvin requested you help him scribe the King’s collection list in his chambers. Your hand is quite careful and it is needed. Now, go; before your obligations to Jovens at the Smithy begin.”

 

“Yes Father.” Jim dismissed himself with a King’s guard salute; a fist pressed over the heart at his left shoulder, sound echoing in his chest. With quick steps and the sound of a crunching apple bite Jim withdrew in the direction of the rectory. He didn’t tarry and went to straight to Brother Melvin’s cell. He knocked lightly on the door and was called to enter.

 

Brother Melvin was a nervous sort, thin and harried, prematurely balding from the weight of his anxiety. He was quick in his movements and spoke even faster as if he would run out of time if he stopped long enough to take even a single breath in between phrases. He rarely smiled and Jim was used to his fastidious ways.

 

“There you are, there you are.” He said in way of greeting pushing Jim down onto his stool. He took the apple away and glared at it before tossing it to his night waste bucket. Jim protested but had a ledger shoved into his hands. “Quickly now, steady your hand and let’s begin.” Melvin pulled up a chair beside Jim and together on the uneven desk they took pens in hand and copied from lists into the ledger. Jim tried not to think about anything but the shape of what he was copying, not it’s meanings. As Brother Melvin had said there was no time for that and Jim didn’t want to be late to his tasks at the Smithy. Jovens was a man of the gods, but only they knew how long his patience would hold out sharing Jim with the church.

 

By the time the sun was up for an hour, Jim was back at the Smithy and stripped to the waist working molten steel into the rod molds that would later become the sharp bladed swords the King’s guard would use. Jim held firm aspirations of being elected into their ranks; to fight for the King and his lands. All Jim had ever wanted to be was a warrior, however his family had sold him to the church where he learned to read and write; and to talk to the gods in ways they would respond too. Yet being among the Brothers had never suited him and it came to Father Ricktius’ notice that he wasn’t either. Jim was impulsive and brash, stubborn, idealistic and adventurous. All things that were not conducive to serving the gods of peace. He had somehow managed to manipulate every Brother that had ever had any war experience to teach him their fighting techniques, and he would practice relentlessly. Upon having free time, he would travel to the King’s guard training camp and watch the officers train their men. He greedily absorbed everything he could and brought it back to the church yard to practice beneath the moon, night after night. He barely slept or spoke of anything that wasn’t warrior related and finally Father Ricktius knew it was time to let Jim follow his own pursuits to an extent.

 

Jovens the Smithy, had lost his sons in battle and needed an apprentice. Father Ricktius hoped that with time Jovens would be able to change Jim’s mind; steer him away from the battle field due to the reality of war, and give him a valuable skill in the process. Thus far only half of his hopes had come to fruition. Jim remained at the Smithy for many years but he still traveled to the training camps and spied on the warriors that flourished there. Yet still the church owned Jim’s body if not his devotion and Father Ricktius called upon him daily to serve his community and betters. Jim also worked a full day at the Smithy before running to the training fields outside of the King’s parapets. Always Father Ricktius hoped he would be set upon his ear by one of the Guard, yet apparently, they found it humorous to use Jim in training in exchange for a few scraps of knowledge. Jim eagerly performed whatever task they set before him and had the bruises and scars to prove it. He had limped back to the church infirmary long into the night requiring healing from the few Brothers that studied such cures. Even beaten, Jim showed up at the church and Smithy every work day, as well as the training yards. If anything, he was determined, Father Ricktius would grant him that. He just hoped that the young man came to his senses sooner rather than later, and one night he would be beaten so roundly he would never go back.

 

Jovens didn’t care what Jim did as long as he was there to work his days in the Forge. The young man had a talent for design that was delicate as well as resilient. Functionality in his hands could be beautiful and Jovens’ forge had gained a minor reputation among the betters of the land. Not that Jovens would tell Jim of it; he did not wish for Jim to get the idea to strike off on his own, or work for the King’s Smithy instead. Joven’s needed his apprentice to stay right where he was as long as he could keep him there. Jim didn’t seem particularly ambitious past learning to fight and Jovens couldn’t fault the lad for wanting to know the best way to swing the swords he was creating. Practical experience was good for their line of work and Jovens was no exception. He had fought in the land wars of his King; he knew the sight of blood and mayhem, death and destruction first hand. Every man should at least once in their life experience it; it was what shaped character and fortitude. Unlike Father Ricktius, Jovens was perfectly happy to let Jim get the snot beat out of him and cut up like a harvest hog, if it meant he was going to be better at his metal work.  And Jim was.

 

Normally Jovens sent Jim to the mine to collect their allowance of metals, but today he wanted to go, suspicious that on their last claim they had been cheated. This gave Jim a rare afternoon to himself and instead of being forced to work in the forge, he was permitted to have free time. This meant a trip to the training yards and Jim had never run faster there, including the first time he had it stuck in his head to do so. By the time he reached the encampment he was panting heavily, drenched in sweat and dying of thirst.  He paused long enough to drink from one of the three wells the training camp possessed before walking up a short incline in the direction of the tents. Picking his way along the outer ranks of lodgings, Jim made his way across the field to the sword training circles set up to the east of the camp. He then cut through the haphazard press of tents to the sword yard, doing his best to not stick out and be noticed. Thus far everyone was out and too busy to take notice of him, no one gathered around their tent for a meal or repairs on their gear. Jim crept up to a line of trees partially shading the on lookers as two men were stripped to their waists; gauntlets on; swords in hand; circling one another. Both soldiers were larger; taller and broader than Jim; and older as well. One of the men was clean shaven, while the other had a close-cropped beard with gray intermingled amongst the red. His chest was broad, paled the further down the flesh went, dusted with freckles resembling stars in the sky. His manner was relaxed; careless; as his opponent circled him. What they were waiting for Jim didn’t know, but he wasn’t certain which male moved first but one did. It was a flurry of swords flying and connecting, clashing with force and grunts and cries of effort and determination.

 

Jim wet his lips and stood transfixed. The soldier he had been staring at had red hair just to his shoulders, was smaller in both height and build of the man he was fighting, yet as far as Jim could ascertain he was winning. Jim became mesmerized by the man’s movements, his foot work and defensive choices; his offense strategy and calm demeaner. By the time the bout was ending Jim’s heart was beating like a harvest festival drum and his body quivering with desire. He wanted to know this man; train beneath him; serve him and above all he wondered what it would be like to lay beneath those freckles and kiss them one by one. The thought thrilled Jim with as greatly as it frightened him. He had never felt this way about anyone; barely even acknowledged that he ever experienced sexual desire; and yet seeing this man in mock battle was waking up sensations in him he never knew existed and had no choice but to welcome.

 

Jim watched as the standoff ended, the second man being shouldered to the ground and a sword tip pressed to his throat. The red-haired male was the victor and some of the witnesses began chanting his name and Jim found himself shouting along.

 

“Harvey! Harvey!” It was magical. Jim waved a fist in the air with the others and cheered when Harvey helped his opponent stand. This accomplished the two partially embraced to show that there were no hard feelings. Once parted, Jim watched his fascinating man walk to the opposite side of the training circle and sheath his sword before dousing himself with a partially full bucket of water. More claps on the back and exchange of money followed from all sides, plenty of it being shoved into Harvey’s hand as well. He put the coins in his purse and tied it to his belt, before putting on his shirt. He then disappeared into the men gathered on the opposite side of the circle and Jim was off, quickly jogging around the outer rim of the training circle hoping to make it to Harvey to question him, when a large hand came down hard upon his back, fingers scrapping his flesh as he was grabbed by the shirt.

 

“Just where do you think you’re going?” The gruff voice demanded and Jim turned to look over his shoulder. It was one of the King’s soldiers that Jim had trained with before, and had a scar on his arm as proof. “Think you can just watch for free, do you? Every man here paid his share. Where’s yours, eh?”

 

Flass. The ugly giant’s name was Flass. “I was just, I’ll pay Harvey. I came to see him.”

 

“Harvey?” Flass asked like he had just eaten something disagreeable. “He has enough coins to last him a few bottle fulls. No, pay up. You know the rules; pay or bleed.” Flass held out an open hand in indication.

 

“I, I don’t have enough. You know that. But you know I also spar here on occasion. I can be of use to you.”

 

Flass’ barked off laughter attracted the attention of several soldiers he traveled in the company of.  They were all familiar faces to Jim and a couple of them had made him bleed. “Spar? Is that what you think you do here, _Shit_? You think you’re not a camp joke? You are that, **Shit** ; one of the _biggest_.” The others laughed and Jim felt his face redden in anger as much as embarrassment. His jaw set.

 

“Give me a sword and I’ll show you a joke you’ll never forget.”

 

Flass stopped laughing and shoved Jim hard into one of his comrades. Jim was spun around to face Flass and he snarled at him.  “I’ll wipe that look off your face, Shit. And you’re not worth the breath to touch any sword good enough to own.”

 

“Afraid?” Jim baited, his mouth getting ahead of his fighting ability. He could hear Father Ricktius within his mind chiding him for his arrogance. Jim knew he was about to be taught another lesson in humility but he had come to far too back down now. Flass’ back hand silenced Jim and had him biting down on his tongue. Jim spat out the blood and was glad it didn’t land on anyone’s boots. He didn’t want to endure another slap, he wanted to fight like the war gods intended; with swords.

 

“I’ll show you afraid. Then I’ll spit you on my cock like a harvest hog.” Flass jutted his head in the direction of the sparing circle. “Throw him in.” The soldier holding Jim looked startled. “You heard me.” Flass hissed at him. “You pay, or you bleed. Either way he owes us.”

 

The taste of dirt and blood was not one of Jim’s favorites, but he sadly was somewhat accustomed to it. It took him barely a breath to find his feet and rise to stand again. Flass strode into the circle a sword in hand; his or someone else’s didn’t matter; Jim was unarmed. He waited, looking around expectantly for someone to throw him a weapon but allot of the crowd had dispersed after the last match. The few soldiers that did remain watched with idol interest. Jim swallowed and watched Flass’ every move. Flass spun his sword in his hand and taunted Jim, “You ready to bleed, Shit?”

 

Every fiber of Jim’s being was vibrating with anticipation now. This was no ordinary training session; this was an accomplished solider looking to hurt a man just because he could press every advantage.  “Don’t I get a sword too?” Jim asked to stall more than he did to sound ignorant.

 

Flass laughed and took the dagger out of his belt with his free hand and tossed that onto the dirt a little before Jim.  “That’ll do.” He baited motioning to the blade on the ground. “Grab for it, Shit.”

 

Jim swallowed. If he moved for the dagger immediately Flass would swing overhead and cleave his skull in two. If Jim distracted him and moved around to get closer to the dagger he might stand a chance; a thin one but a chance nonetheless. He didn’t relish the idea of being gutted with a sword or raped by a soldier once the challenge ended.

 

“Well go on!” Flass insisted circling a little. “Pick it up and show me the laugh you been promising me. I’m waiting!”

 

“Then give him a proper sword.” The solider that had been holding Jim previously interjected. Flass looked from Jim to his colleague and glared at the other man.

 

“You want him to have one so badly, hand him yours!” Flass argued gaze now never leaving his friend.

 

The man picked up his sword sheath from a collection of blades a few steps away, and drew the blade. He stepped into the circle and held it pummel out to Jim, blade downwards. “Nick it, and I’ll nick you.” He warned halfheartedly. Jim took the blade and thanked him with a nod of gratitude. The man returned to the edge of the ring and Jim turned all his attention on Flass. The sword was heavy in his hands, but all his hours in the forge had made his wrists and upper arms strong.

 

“Done crying now, Shit?” Flass poked as if it had been Jim that had protested the unfairness of the match up. “You got your sword now; show me!”

 

Jim knew that Flass would attack when he stopped talking and he was not disappointed. The impact of his blade to Jim’s brought him to a kneeling position and Jim’s head was near ringing with the clash of metals. Flass swung again, this time thrusting at a weakly defended spot and Jim heard his shirt tear, and felt the cold heat of the blade opening the flesh of his side. It hurt and the blood flowed, yet Jim ignored it and counter moved to shove Flass’ blade away from him.  He spun around and down, seizing up the dagger in his hand without stopping. While it was difficult to hold the sword with one hand and spin, he kept moving and as he faced Flass he thrust the dagger forward while blocking Flass’ attack with the sword above his head, and plunged the dagger into the region of Flass’ crotch.

 

Flass’ scream of anguish caused numerous soliders to run back to the training circle to see what had happened. Blood flowed instantly dampening Flass’ trousers and Jim braced his second hand around the sword grip, and remained kneeling. Fortunately, the weight of Flass’ blade was lifted off his own and Flass stumbled back and fell. “What in the name of the gods did you do?” The owner of Jim’s sword screeched before striking Jim in the head with a practiced hand. He seized his sword back from Jim’s grip and kicked at him. “Get out! Get away from him!”

 

The surrounding area turned into chaos and mayhem as Jim found himself jerked up to his feet and spirited away from Flass and company, screaming that he was provoked to deaf ears. Someone was calling for a surgeon and Jim found himself thrown face first into the ground, kicked by two different sets of boots and told to remain where he was. The voices didn’t book argument so Jim remained down, curled up on himself in case others elected to kick him as well. He waited for a while, yet the din of confusion and some raucous laughter faded and eventually he was pulled by his shirt to sit up. He was held from behind but before him stood one of the commanding officers that Jim recognized as one of the King’s Guard and he swallowed, anxiousness rising in his throat once more.

 

“Have they killed you?” The officer; Dalling; inquired. Jim stared at him dumbly for a few seconds and then the man squatted before him and tugged at his bloodied shirt to inspect his wound.  “Just a graze. Still, the surgeon should have a look.” His gaze leveled with Jim’s and Jim felt trapped in them. “I’ve tolerated you here; some of the men even like you and you’re keen to learn. But I must have discipline in my soldiers and you; your reckless act has caused one of them serious harm. After you’re patched up you’ll be escorted back to the edge of camp. If you are ever caught here again, my men will have orders to arrest you and you’ll be sent to the King’s prison. Is that clear, boy?”

 

Jim was no longer a boy but he was not about to argue. His heart was crushed, his stomach dropping to the base of his spine where it tangled up around the bones and constricted. His legs were weak and he looked pleadingly at the Dalling.  “But,”

 

“Would you rather be arrested now?” Dalling demanded and Jim dropped his gaze, momentarily defeated.

 

“No, sir.”

 

“Consider yourself fortunate then.” Dalling looked up at the two soldiers standing behind Jim. “Take him to the surgeon; have a healer look at that cut and send him home.” The two soldiers clucked a unison, ‘yes sir’ and Dalling rose and left Jim in their hands. Jim watched Dalling glide off as he was hauled to his feet and drug in the opposite direction.

 

“You’ve really stepped in it now, boy.” One of the men said to him; obviously he was one of the soldiers that liked Jim according to Dalling’s description.  “He could have had you executed so consider yourself lucky. And don’t go thinking this will pass. He meant what he said about the King’s prison.”

 

“No one wants to go there.” The second solider announced as they walked in direction of the healing tent. “By the gods anyone that goes in never comes out again, lest to be buried in the grave.”

 

Jim shivered but not from the fear of prison, he was bleeding and felt light headed. He had lost the one thing in his life that meant something to him because of his big, stupid, mouth.  Flass had meant to kill him and he was merely defending himself; not that anyone would believe him over Flass’ version of the incident. Because he had drawn blood he was banned now, and Jim wanted to vomit at the thought of the injustice. He needed a plan, but for the moment he needed to see the surgeon as his head was beginning to spin and his breathing shallow. Now he was drug more than walked in between the two soldiers and Jim accepted for the moment that he was in the hands of others.

 

Flass was screaming and the healer was yelling at the surrounding soldiers to hold him still. From where Jim sat he couldn’t see what was happening to Flass, only that there was a gathering of people around him where he rested upon a surgeon’s table. Moments later a cauterizing brand was called for and the scent of searing flesh filled the air in conjunction with Flass’ screams. Jim squinted his eyes shut and waited for the healer to finish with his first charge. Fifteen minutes later he arrived and washed the blood from his hands in a bowl of water for that purpose. He dried them and looked at Jim.

 

“He’s lost a testicle but he’ll live.” The healer stated matter-of-factly. “Unless it goes rancid then, well, he’ll lose his life.” The healer looked at Jim and began to remove his shirt without warning. Dumbly Jim allowed it. He clucked over the gash in Jim’s side, tugging at the flesh to separate it and see how deep the wound went. “Humm, easy enough fix.” He said as Jim grimaced from the pain and almost passed out. “Sew or burn?” The question bounced around within Jim’s mind and he was about to ask which was the better method when Commander Dilling appeared to check on Flass.

 

Noting Jim was with the healer he approached, overhearing the question. “Which will get him out of my training camp faster?”

 

“Binding it with a poultice.” The healer stated looking at Dilling. “But without closing it the wound will go rancid and he’ll die. If that’s what you want then you treat him, as I’ll have no part in it.”

 

Dilling held up a hand. “Just burn it closed and get him out of here. Flass’ men are none too happy and I don’t need their bellyaching, on this or any day.”

 

“As you command.” The healer assured then turned back to Jim’s wound. He poured some water in a bowl and brought a few clean rags to wipe away the blood on Jim’s skin. “Brand!” He yelled for his nurse to bring it from the fire. A couple of soldiers appeared and stood on either side of Jim, holding him upright none too gently in a seated position. The healer took the brand and Jim saw the glowing tip of metal that had been resting in the flames all day. He suddenly wished he were back at the forge working, but he ground his teeth and braced himself for the touch of the orange metal.

 

Jim didn’t think he’d scream, but he did; for several seconds until he passed out. He was awakened by a gentle slap to the face. He was laying down and with a bandage around his back and the healer applying a salve to his burns. Once he was finished the healer tied the clean bandage and handed Jim the jar of salve. He also lay Jim’s shirt across his lap.

 

“Keep it clean, use the salve twice a day and bind it. Exposure to the open air at night. Take dayflowers tea several times a day for the pain and Valerian tea to help you sleep. Just a cup mind you; you don’t want to be lazy.” The healer turned and wiped his hands upon a clean rag. “Out with you now, I need the table cleaned.”

 

Jim slowly pushed himself up to a seated position and carefully put on his shirt and climbed off the surgical table. He slunk outside with the salve in one hand and the tails of his shirt out. He looked at the two soldiers standing there and assumed they were his escort to the edge of camp. He began walking in the direction of his settlement and silently the soldiers flanked him. The walk seemed inordinately lengthy as Jim realized he wouldn’t see the inside of the training camp perhaps ever again. Surely as long as Dilling was in command. Tears pricked at his gaze but he refused to shed them, even if he had the excuse of his injuries to cover up any useless tears. Jim didn’t want to cry, he was furious with himself, with Dilling and most definitely Flass.

 

The soldiers accompanied Jim past the camp edge and down to the main thoroughfare, flanking him until they reached the dirt path that served as a road.  “Alright Shit.” One of the soldiers said but with admiration rather than disrespect. “Remember what Commander Dilling’s told you. Don’t come back to the camp. We don’t want to take you all the way to the King’s prison.” The other solider merely nodded to emphasize and Jim softly thanked them both. He watched them walk away until they were up the slope before he turned and began shuffling his way back to his settlement.

 

He was going to be late, and by the time he did arrive Jovens was going to be back from the mine and furious with him. It was a day of unpleasant endings when it had begun so promising.

Chapter 2: A Servant and a Drunkard

For the next few days Jim followed the healer’s directions and nursed his burned flesh. He sulked, morose in his own company and barely said a word to anyone else. After a week, he had the healer at the church infirmary check the progress of his healing and the flesh wasn’t as tender as it had been. He was given a clean bill of health then immediately put to work in the garden harvesting herbs for the healer’s salves and potions. Whenever Jim pulled the skin-tight working in the Smithy he was reminded of his humiliation at the training camp, and his anger for Flass and Dalling renewed in full. He knew it was foolish to hold a grudge but he couldn’t stop himself as he schemed and fantasized about a way to return to the training camp and learn what he needed to know to become a soldier of the King’s guard. Two weeks later Jim found an opportunity to have safe passage to and from the camp.

 

Jovens was making a delivery to the training camp. Spear heads that they had worked on for weeks molding and shaping at the forge, for the King’s tribute as well as an officially placed order. He had spent less time at the church which had become a sore spot with Father Ricktius, but his wrath aside the King’s tribute affected everyone in the settlement and the church was no different. They produced medicine, books and cloth while the Smithy provided arms. Jim had already updated the arrow head molds with Jovens’ supervision and was beginning that order when the time came to deliver the spear heads. Jovens and Jim loaded the cart with their tribute and hitched up the horse Jovens shared with a neighbor; as it was far cheaper than buying his own outright. Jovens drove while Jim fiddled with official document outlining the Blacksmith’s proposed tribute for that year and delivery schedule.

 

Jim was anxious and didn’t want any fall out from his previous turn at the camp to revisit him and expose him to Jovens. He had not told his Smithy master about the altercation with Flass even though he had asked Jim about his wound. It was easy enough for Jim to misinform him about the origins, and his answer of an overzealous trainee and his own footing mistake was easily accepted. As they rounded the bend to the incline of the camp entrance, Jovens took the King’s Seal document from Jim and nodded at Jim with pride in his gaze from their work well done.  The document was checked by a sergeant at the camp entrance and the cart was inspected before being waved through. Jim’s stomach clenched when Jovens pulled the reigns stopping the cart at the quartermaster’s supply depot and Jim saw _him_.

 

The shock of red hair was difficult to miss. Jim’s heartbeat sped up and his mouth went dry then alternately too moist with excess saliva. Harvey was fully dressed this time, in his practice, leather chest plate and arm guards, the thick leather at his throat and shoulders reminding Jim instantly of the constellations of freckles that were hidden beneath the heavy gear. He was talking to a few men, King’s Guards one and all. Harvey had them laughing and Jim tried in vain to will his ears to hear his words above the din of the camp about him. No such luck as he was forced to tear his eyes away from the older male and begin to unload the cart with Jovens. Depot workers took the crates from them and placed them in their proper homes for assembly with the spear shafts later. Jovens and Jim were about finished when abruptly there was an enraged call from the front of the cart.

 

“Oy! You, Shit! What were you told? It’s the King’s prison for you! Grab that boy, somebody; now!”

 

Jim paled as Jovens looked from the approaching soldier to Jim. “What have you done, Jim?” He asked sternly and there was fear in his gaze at the mention of prison.

 

Jim shook his head and searched Jovens’ features. “I was defending myself. This is all miss understanding that’s gone too far. I promise. I- “ Jim’s statement was cut short by the soldier and a couple of other men who attended as back up.

 

Jim was seized by the shoulder. “You have some nerve to show your face here!”

 

“Wait!” Jovens snapped pulling the official document from out of his belt. “We are here delivering the King’s tribute. This man has done nothing wrong. He is my apprentice and under my charge. I ask you sir to please let us go about our business.”

 

“The only business this one is going about is to the pits of King’s prison!” hissed one of the other soldiers yanking Jim towards him and the first man. “He tried to murder one of our own.”

 

“No!” Jim insisted. “I didn’t want to kill him; it was all just a mistake.”

 

“I’ll give you a mistake Shit!” The first soldier growled in Jim’s ear. The third stood beside Jovens and held him back, kindly issuing a warning for the Blacksmith to drop his protest and allow justice to be served. Helplessly Jovens looked from him to Jim.

 

“He’s my apprentice!” Jovens insisted plaintively. The first soldier was about to spat at Jovens a retort when a voice shattered the private conversation in a barked demand.

 

“Let him go!” Jim’s heart nearly stopped in his chest; it was Harvey. Harvey looked at the scene before him and quickly assessed it. He looked to the third soldier and calmly instructed, “Kellen; your senior infantry here. Tell me what all this baying is about.”

 

“Flass.” Interjected the first solider. “This Shit here tried to kill Flass!” Harvey glared at the first man for speaking then burst into laughter at his words.

 

“ _This_ lad?” Harvey shook his head and his laughter died. Jim’s breath came quick and shallow at the sound of the older man’s joviality and he wet his lips and stared openly at Harvey for a chance to defend himself as well as in gratitude.  Harvey’s gaze locked with Jim’s. “You the one that stabbed him in the balls?”

 

“It was just one.” Jim countered truthfully. “He wanted to kill me and I didn’t want either of us to die that day.”

 

“Allow me to shake your hand.” Teased Harvey holding out his right arm to grip Jim’s left the way that warriors were want to. “Anyone that keeps Flass from breeding is a friend to me.”

 

“Enough, Bullock!” Hissed the first man knocking their hands away from one another. Harvey retaliated by rounding on the soldier and grabbing him by the lapels of his tunic and forcing him back a few steps.

 

“Touch me again and I’ll do more than take your ball, Warrick. Are we clear?” Growling to himself Warrick assured Harvey that he understood and was violently pushed backward as Harvey released him. This accomplished Harvey turned back to Kellen and calmly asked, “And then?”

 

“Commander Dalling ordered him ejected from the camp and pressed that if he should return he was to be arrested.”

 

“For attempted murder?” guessed Harvey. Kellen gave a slight shrug but nodded all the same. Harvey was about to say something when Jovens interceded and pleaded with him.

 

“Please sir; my apprentice Jim is young. And we’re here on official crown business delivering our tribute. We mean no trouble; we were just going to make the delivery and leave, simple as you like. Please; don’t arrest him for doing the King’s bidding.”

 

Harvey considered the situation looking from Kellen, to Jim and back to Jovens. “Your bidding. The King didn’t specifically ask for this lad to deliver the goods, did he?”

 

Jovens flushed with color. “Er, no sir. But he’s my apprentice.”

 

Harvey crossed his arms. “Did you know about the camp ban?”

 

“No.” Jovens glared momentarily at Jim before looking back at Harvey. “He kept that from me. And as I said, we are here on official business.”

 

Harvey looked at Kellen and came to a decision. “You are that; King’s business.” Harvey glanced at Jim then addressed the circle. “Allow the blacksmith to finish his delivery and leave. His charge poses no danger to Flass or anyone here.” Harvey’s gaze narrowed bitterly at Warrick. “And if Flass limps over here, I’ll write him up on intention to insight camp violence. Got that Warrick?”

 

“Yes.” Harvey struck him at the shoulder pushing him back half a step.

 

“Yes, _what_?”

 

“Yes, **Lieutenant** Bullock.” Warrick defiantly ground out before ordering his two lackeys to follow him away from the confrontation.

 

Once he was gone Harvey addressed Kellen. “Thank you, Kellen. It’s been forever and a day since someone has called me ‘ _lieutenant’_. Then again, I hope it’s the last.” Harvey laughed to ease the tension and Kellen joined him.

 

“That bastard had it coming.” He looked at Jovens. “You lot finish your work here, and leave before someone of true rank sees you.”

 

“Thank you, sirs.” Jovens praised and elbowed Jim to join him in the same. Jim did, but his eyes wouldn’t; couldn’t; leave Harvey as he nodded to them and Harvey continued on his way. Jim ached to follow him but in an instant, was back in the moment when Jovens struck him hard on the back with an open palm.  “To work with you, Jim!” Jim obeyed and threw the occasional glance in the direction Harvey had exited, hoping to spy him one final time before leaving camp.

 

The ride back to the settlement was uncomfortable as Jovens scolded Jim for his stupidity and asked for the details of the situation. After the reciting of events Jovens was even angrier with him and berated him to never set foot near the camp again. He agreed that Commander Dalling was a noble man and Jim was lucky he wasn’t locked up in the King’s dungeon. Jim withstood the dressing down, his thoughts drifting to Harvey and how he when their hands touched he felt like all the cells in his body awoke at once; but thanks to the bastard Warrick the contact was short. As punishment Jovens had Jim work through supper and through half the night. By morning thoughts of Harvey were still close at hand and Jim found himself fantasizing about him on his bed when he ought to be sleeping.

 

He replayed the exchange the prior day over and over in his mind’s eye; this time he and Harvey did touch longer, and it was magical. Soon Harvey was training him for combat and taking him to his bed at night to learn how to please him in more ways than just drills. Following that they were riding to war together; not marching but riding with the cavalry, protecting the archers and breaking the lines of the enemy for the foot soldiers to clean up after them. They were lofty dreams; fanciful but no matter what direction they headed in the practical sense or in whimsy, they all rounded back to Jim being naked as Harvey’s sole lover.

 

Jim’s flesh was flushed and burning with the desire to do things with Harvey that he had never done with another human being, or even thought of doing until now. His cock was at ridged attention and weeping pre-ejaculate, aching for his touch. Jim tried to ignore it the best he was able, receding further and further into his mind until he was whining and groaning with the immense need for his fantasies to be real. His hand slipped beneath his blanket and he grabbed a hold of himself and barely ran the tip of his thumb across the head of his cock when he shuddered; coming; with Harvey’s name moaned like a prayer into the night. Desperately he panted and as he came back to himself the fear began creeping up his spine.

 

How? How could an indentured blacksmith apprentice and servant of the church ever garner the notice of a lieutenant in the King’s Guard army? How could he entice said lieutenant into his bed, if he did somehow catch his eye? Jim was inexperienced but he would do anything to please someone like Harvey; perform any sexual act requested of him merely for the privilege of the sensation of Harvey’s touch. How many people at the King’s hearth or lands would boast such dedication? Jim doubted there were many, but the thought still wasn’t comforting. He had to see the older man again; he knew it was risky however how could he not? Harvey would be the ultimate instructor of warfare and Jim longed to be near him; to scent him and languish in his company. Even if Harvey would not take him as a lover at least Jim would know what it was like to be in his orbit for even a day. Jim drew his hand up his sticky and spent cock, ignoring how over sensitized it was and continued to jack himself off slowly.  _Harvey_. What he wouldn’t do for the man he barely knew but desperately wished to. Jim closed his eyes and his hand moved slower, and slower; until finally he slept.

 

Days passed and Harvey was never far from Jim’s thoughts. Jim attempted to come up with different scenarios where he would go to the training camp and request to see him; find some kind soul that wasn’t interested in false King’s justice and take pity on him and give word to Harvey to meet him in the glade just to the north of the encampment. He thought of various things to say, pledges to make, words of persuasion. He felt his best bet would be to pose as one of the Brothers from the church, even though the deceit was against the gods, but a small lie was better than ending up in prison when he didn’t deserve to be there.  His next goal was to get himself put on laundry detail at the church and that way he would have easy access to the Brothers cowls, cloth trousers and tunic.

 

In the meantime, he was busy making arrow heads and sword rods as quickly as Jovens and he could crank them out.  Jovens alleged that the core of the army would be marching to war soon, and Jim felt he had a fair point.  He wanted to put his plan into action before the advanced King’s Guard was deployed in case Harvey was one of those warriors and not the Hearth Guard in the royal household. When they weren’t molding new weapons, Jim was doing repairs on a cavalcade of swords while Jovens was creating new ones.  Gossip at the mine was that all the surrounding settlements that had Smithies were all producing weapons at a rapid rate. Jim wished; not for the first time; that he was part of the army so he would be able to join the impending battle.  He felt worry in his gut for Harvey but anxiousness too that he could not be there to have the older male’s back. Every sword he fixed, every arrow or spear head he molded he thought of a prayer of protection for each and every service man using it.  Mine production had increased and instead of a bimonthly trip to the mine, Jovens was sending Jim twice, sometimes three times for materials. Jim even had to mine some of the ore himself as the professional miners struggled to keep up with demand.

 

Father Ricktius finally put his foot down with Jovens and said war or no war the gods did not follow man’s laws but that of their own making. While Jim was upset to be pulled away from the forge, at least he was inside the workings of the church and had access to the necessary items for his disguise. It took him about a week of tedious labor at the scribes table to manage to locate and procure the Brothers ‘uniform’ of sorts, but he squirreled it away in a little used corridor behind a loose stone until he was prepared to go. He chose the day of worship to implement his plan. The training camp would be mostly deserted and there was a chance he could get word to Harvey if not physically interact with him. Jim had scribed a note imploring the lieutenant to agree to meet him and see if he would perhaps take on an apprentice of his own. Just how Jim expected to divide his time between the church, Smithy and training yard, he had no clue, only that he would indeed make it work somehow since his aspirations depended on it. Jim knew that all officers could read and write so that his message would be for Harvey’s eyes only and comprehended.

 

It was late afternoon and Jim shucked his clothes in the bushes and pulled on the Brothers tan cloth trousers and tunic. He didn’t put the cowl on but carried it while he ran. He made it to the edge of the encampment by sunset and stopped in the trees to put on the robe. He stepped out from the coverage and was tangled in the material when he fell face first onto the ground. He struggled wildly to right himself and pull his head through his robe when the sound of hearty laughter filled his ears. After some wild flailing, the laughter got louder and Jim got more furious with his misfortune. Abruptly the world came back into view and he looked up to see the object of his obsession: Harvey.

 

The older male was laying on the ground, one hand behind his head pillowed by his practice armor, and his other hand around the hilt of his sheathed sword. The same sword that he had used to trip Jim and cause him to fall. Jim was red faced with both anger and embarrassment as he gaped at his; hopefully; benefactor.

 

“What in the gods names did you do that for?”

 

Harvey’s laughter ceased and his tone and expression drew into seriousness. “The same can be asked of you and that cowl you’re fighting to get into. Impersonating a Brother is a criminal offense.”

 

Jim swallowed but rose to his feet and dusted off his costume. “Only if you report me. Besides, I put this on so I could come find you.”

 

“Me?” Harvey demanded pulling his sword back to his side. His now free hand moved up behind his head with its mate. “Why would you do that, lad?”

 

“Because I needed to see you. To talk to you.” Jim quickly added contemplating just giving Harvey his written note but then accepting that any man would just speak his words whenever possible.  “I have a proposition.”

 

“Do you now?” Harvey asked a sly glint to his green gaze. One hand moved from behind his head to cover his crotch. “Put your mouth here and then we’ll see what proposition you’ll be offering me.”

 

Jim blushed so hard he could physically feel his cheeks and the back of his neck burning with it. He severed eye contact and tried reservedly not to stare at the hand that Harvey had just groped himself with. The sound of Harvey’s mocking laughter caused his head to jerk up and eyes to lock onto the older man’s.  “Is but a joke, lad. What’s this proposition of yours?”

 

Jim straightened his spine feeling the color of his cheeks thankfully lessen as he spoke. “I have trained to become a soldier since I could hold a practice sword my father had made me out of an oak branch.  I was sold to the church when I was five and trained as a Brother but was never ordained. When I was eleven I was indentured to the settlement blacksmith to learn a trade, but what I want is to be one of the King’s warriors. Yes, I’ve come to this encampment over and over; despite being mocked; being beaten and cut; in all types of weather. I watched, mimicked and learned from those that would teach me and those that would not.  I dedicate myself in the night time hours to practicing what I’ve learned, and when I saw you fight in the sword circle I knew instantly that you’re the one I’ve been waiting for. You’re the teacher I’ve longed for and prayed to the gods to find. I want you to teach me the craft of war and I pledge to you that I will do whatever you ask of me in return. Your orders will be as if from the gods themselves and I will obey; in all things; at all times; if you but agree to take me as your sword barer.”

 

Harvey looked away from Jim and up to the sky. He watched the multi-colors stretch across the horizon and thought them beautiful. Not as beautiful as the depths of this young man’s eyes but enticing.  A better man would turn the lad away. A better man would explain how fanciful all the nonsense that Jim had spouted was. Tell him that war was not for the young and skilled, but for the old with scars and no home or hearth to lose. A better man would send Jim back to his settlement; the church; the Smithy; and warn him again of the decree of prison should he ever be caught in the camp again. A good man would take Jim into confidence and explain the brutality of war, not the romanticized bullshit that Jim was spouting at him. Warn him of the loss, the fear, the disgusting truths of the battle field. A good man would do these things and more; but Harvey accepted that he was neither a good nor better man. He was weak willed, lonely and a little more than drunk.

 

Finally, Harvey looked away from the horizon and back at Jim’s expectant features. “Does your settlement have a proper tavern?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Is the ale fine and strong?”

 

“Fine enough, perhaps not the strongest though.” Jim permitted second guessing his initial response of telling Harvey it was weak in his opinion.

 

“Does your settlement have a proper church? A place where even a soulless man can find solace in prayer to deaf gods?”

 

“Yes sir. The church is stone and welcomes all who seek solace there. Father Ricktius- “

 

“Don’t call me _sir_.” Harvey said looking to the sky once more. This time he closed his eyes. “My name is Harvey Bullock. Anything else I won’t answer too. Certainly not sir, nor papa. Understand what I’m saying lad?”

 

Jim nodded first but realized that Harvey couldn’t see him as his eyes were shut. “Yes. I understand. You’re my teacher not my surrogate family.”

 

“Mmm hum.” Harvey sing songed from the ground. “You want to be my sword barer? Go back home and I’ll travel to your settlement when I’m damn well thirsty and in need of prayer. Until then?” Harvey paused and opened his eyes and looked straight at Jim. “Stay the fuck away from the training camp. Some of the bastards down there really want to see you arrested. I for one? Kinda like what you did to Flass. That fuckhead has been worthy of castration since the day he popped out from his mother’s belly.”

 

Jim smiled at that. “He really was trying to kill me.”

 

“So, I’ve heard.” Harvey reassured Jim casually. “Kellen’s a good man; a little misguided by following Flass and Warrick; but a good man at heart. He was there that day. Said Flass wanted to spit you like a harvest hog. That right?”

 

Shame turned the tips of Jim’s ears read but he held Harvey’s gaze all the same. “And he threatened my life.”

 

“You keep saying.” Harvey smirked and looked back at the sky once more and closed his eyes.  “Go home, lad.”

 

“Jim.” Jim corrected softly. “My name is Jim. I have no surname as I’m a bastard.”

 

“Not yet.” Harvey stated reassuringly. “But we’ll make you a right murderous one.” Harvey’s smile widened. “ _Maybe_.” Harvey said nothing more and Jim sensed it was better to take his leave then push his luck with his new sword master.

 

By the time Jim had walked down the slope onto the main road his head was spinning. He pulled off the cowl and balled it up to carry under one arm. Harvey. Harvey had agreed to be his sword master. Jim felt like running, like spinning in circles and shouting his good fortune to the heavens. All he had ever wanted was coming true; bit by bit he would work to make every fantasy he had regarding the older man into a reality. He merely had to do his best and never quit. He wondered when Harvey would make his way to the settlement. It was nightfall so he probably would wait until the morning. Ride his horse into the square, or better yet the Smithy. How proud Jim was going to be when he introduced Jovens to the man formerly. And Father Ricktius? He would protest for certain but Jim was confident he could convince him of his plan. If nothing else Harvey could insist upon his induction as his sword barer. Jim could see it all so clearly, laid out before him.  He couldn’t remember being this happy since the first time he had seen Harvey; before that it had been the day his father had handed him the practice sword; three euphoric events in his lifetime and Jim was looking forward too many more with Harvey at they’re center.

 

Jim felt like singing, like dancing; like shouting and he would have run a few steps towards home but the sky was darkening and he didn’t want to trip. The last thing he needed was another injury before he began training in earnest. The details would be easy for him to schedule; his priority would be training with Harvey and then his duties at the church and Smithy would follow as time permitted. Giddy with joy Jim stopped on the road and looked up at the stars beginning to peek out of the evening sky above him. He closed his eyes and sent out a prayer of gratitude to every god he could readily remember and a few he only had a vague recollection that just might exist. When he reached the settlement, he would have to go to the church and give a formal prayer but that would be when he arrived home; for now, he was merely happy to exist in the current moment of joy. After all, with an impending war coming he figured it could be his last for quite some time. The terrorizing thought struck him abruptly. If war was declared then Harvey would be going to the front lines, sword master oath or none. He wouldn’t take Jim with him as he was terribly inexperienced and when would he have the opportunity to train Jim amidst a full-scale battle? As Jim’s thoughts began to spin out of control he took a deep breath and began walking once more, each few steps he repeated the deep breathing process. Tomorrow; tomorrow Harvey would come to the settlement and training would begin. One foot in front of the other, one challenge at a time, one thought, one purpose, one heartbeat, one breath. Jim felt calmer as he hurried along the road towards home.

 

He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep this night, but it didn’t matter. Harvey was coming and tomorrow he would begin his official training as a soldier and become Harvey’s sword barer. Perhaps Jovens would permit him to make himself a sword of his own. He would pay for it of course with spoils of his first battle; or take it out in trade as he did now for his room and board. Tomorrow his life would begin anew; he would perhaps have his duties at the church removed in favor of his battle training. Or be able to return to the encampment regardless of his kerfuffle with Flass. Now he was under Harvey’s protection, and who would dare imprison his sword barer? Commander Dalling would have to lift his ban; Jim knew that Harvey would be gracious about it and approach the Commander privately instead of in front of the men. Perhaps Dalling would have to make a formal announcement to the camp. Jim’s head was stuffed full of such thoughts as he walked, but the time he reached the church it was past evening prayers and allot of the monks were in their chambers preparing for bed. Jim hurried to the front of the church where the statues of twelve of the main gods were lined. He dropped to his knees before the war god and left him the coin he was supposed to use to purchase his days meals in the market place. Going hungry for one day was not much of a sacrifice when it meant that Harvey would be coming and training him. Because Harvey was coming tomorrow and Jim couldn’t wait.

 

The next day Harvey didn’t come to the settlement for Jim. Nor the day after, and the following day. Seventeen days hence and Jim was furious with, and devastated by Harvey’s absence. He couldn’t imagine that the man had lied to him; agreed to be his sword master just to laugh at Jim behind his back. Harvey was an honorable man; had shown he was such the day Jovens had made the spear head delivery. Jim refused to believe that Harvey had forsaken him, even if he couldn’t understand why he was so slow in coming to the settlement. What if he had been called away to the front and _couldn’t_ come? Jim lived on hope that it was some manner of obstacle and not just the fact that Harvey had no intention of coming for Jim. It was far less painful to believe that, so Jim held out hope that Harvey wouldn’t fail him. He merely counted the days, continued training at night and waited.

 

And waited still.

 

Chapter Three: The Stand and Training

Harvey didn’t drink for courage; courage he had in abundance; well, not courage he reckoned but the next best thing: stupidity. He didn’t drink to carry him onto the battle field he drank to keep himself off it once the horrors were over, and the dead were counted and buried. Harvey drank in the aftermath to forget; and if he were honest with himself he would accept that being drunk was an ineffective way to erase the trauma of war. The faces of the dead followed him wherever he went, appeared to him whenever he closed his eyes. The aches and pains, scars and wounds that littered his body were each a narrow escape from his own death and testament to the same that he had injured others with. Drinking hardly faded their memory. Harvey was calm in battle because he knew that he would die fighting in one. It was just a matter of time, the weapon and the person were of no matter, nor was the battle. There was no fear in him in a battle because he was a dead man waiting for his last breath.

 

Why could no one understand this? The young wanted glory, fame and fortune. The old, grizzled warriors wanted one last battle so that they could die for a purpose. Harvey existed somewhere beyond them, he fought because it was all he knew how to do and what he was ordered too. He fought so that the men beside him could live another day and for their own selfish reasons; he cared not. His fate had been written by the gods and he was perfectly willing to amuse them by playing his part. Now they had sent him a challenge; a blond haired, blue eyed, bodily masterpiece of a man and expected him to train him for war. The idea of it was ludicrous to say the least; to say the most it was terrifying. Harvey had trained others before and not cared one whit about the outcome past them being able to conquer their fear and stand fast in battle when chaos reigned and the rest ran for life and limb. Yet this; this was different; this was a young man fit to walk among the gods asking for Harvey to allow him to serve. What in hades was Harvey supposed to do with that? Yet if the gods ordained it? What choice did he have but to comply?

 

The settlement was small but Jim had been truthful about the church, less so regarding the ale. However, the hard-distilled liquor was another matter entirely, and Harvey wondered why Jim hadn’t mentioned it in the first place.  Harvey’s first stop had been the church to give the gods one last chance to change their minds. They remained as silent as he expected them too, and Harvey had to brush off no less than three separate Brothers seeking to help him soothe his tormented soul. His soul was neither in need of comfort nor was it tormented; not that he was aware of; past the ghosts of the dead that followed him from battle. Offering left, prayers ignored, well-meaning Brothers held at bay, Harvey turned his sights to the local tavern.  The food; thankfully; was far better than the ale and upon finishing his meal Harvey wandered to the Smithy. His gaze first settled upon Jovens and granted him a curt nod, then fell upon Jim.

 

Jim stood before the anvil, stripped to the waist and wearing the leather apron. He was hammering rods for Jovens’ inspection; but there was no need for the Blacksmith to bother; Jim’s work was solid enough upon its own.  Jim’s flesh glistened with sweat and reflected the heat from the flames in the forge. The rise and fall of the hammer gave Harvey a view of the male’s upper body strength and suspected Jim would have taken easily to the long bow if that was the direction he had chosen instead. Jim caught Harvey’s eye and held the hammer, stopping it mid swing. Frowning, Jim turned back to his duty and let the hammer fall.

 

“Twenty-seven days.” Jim accused hammering harder due to the influx of anger he felt.

 

Harvey moved into the Smithy, struck by the intensity of the heat and resisted the urge to wipe his forehead of sweat that instantly marked it. “Pardon?”

 

“Twenty, seven, **days**.” Jim repeated each word a fall of the hammer clanging loudly. He halted in his work and glared at Harvey. “It took you twenty-seven days to make a journey that only takes a fraction of time to _walk_.” Jim’s jaw set. “You said you would come.”

 

“And I did.” Harvey held his hands out from his sides in grand gesture. They fell back to rest upon his sword belt. “In my time, lad; never yours. What happened to you’d be willing to endure anything I ask?”

 

This made Jim swallow his anger somewhat.  He shifted in his stance and bowed his head. “So, I said.”

 

“That you did.” Harvey moved a little further into the Smithy and Jovens looked from Harvey to Jim.

 

“What have you done _now_ , Jim? Why is a man of the King’s Army standing in my forge not asking for service?”

 

“Oh, I’m asking for service.” Harvey injected drawing Jovens’ full attention. He pointed at Jim. “Service from him. He’s to be my new sword barer. Didn’t he explain that to you?” Harvey crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Jim. “Why, he had _twenty-seven_ **days** to.”

 

Stunned, Jovens addressed Jim. “Is this so? You’ve made an oath as a sword barer? What of your trade here? The church? They’ll be none to pleased I can tell you that. Severe the gods before serving man, is what Father Ricktius will say!” There was hurt in Jovens gaze and Jim pushed the hammer into a pocket of the apron.

 

Jim stepped from around the anvil, heading towards Jovens and Harvey before saying, “Please Jovens; you’ve been a wonderful teacher and kind landlord. Yet you know in my heart I was meant to be a soldier, never a blacksmith; never a Brother. This is my chance and I have to take it.”

 

Jovens ran his hands back over his head, dark hair close cropped and he wore several scars from the forge. “Yes, yes. Your destiny yes.” He muttered more to himself then to Jim. He lowered his hands and pointed accusingly at Jim. “You’ll be the one to tell Father Ricktius. I’ll take no part in that or what he’ll say. I’ve done nothing wrong by him or by the gods. Nothing!”

 

“I know.” Jim placated gently. “Father Ricktius is my responsibility; I’ll tell him after I’ve packed.”

 

“Packed?” Harvey demanded curtly and both Jovens and Jim looked at him. “Where you once slept? I do now. You’re on the floor until you’ve earned the right to a bed.”

 

Jim’s gaze widened in disbelief.  “But I’m your sword barer.”

 

“And I need a roof over my head more than you do. Is that a complaint I hear?”

 

“No, s- “ Jim caught himself about to say sir and recalled what Harvey had insisted he be titled. “No lieutenant Bullock.” He motioned to the ceiling. “My quarters are above the forges.”

 

Harvey schooled his expression to hide any surprise he may have showed. “Warm in the winter then?”

 

“Warm enough.” Jim assured wondering if they would be spending the winter at the settlement.  “I’ll show you.”

 

“Later. You need to talk to Father Ricktius from what I understand.” It was a conversation Jim was dreading but he nodded obediently and began to remove his apron.

 

Helplessly Jovens watched him and grabbed his arm before Jim could walk past him. “My orders for the King?”

 

Jim smiled and placed his hand over Jovens’. “I will work through the night. I carry through with my obligations.” This seemed to soothe Jovens and he slipped his hand out from under Jim’s and withdrew.

 

“Get on with you then, Jim. Father Ricktius won’t be as understanding as I am.” As Jim pulled his shirt up and on he knew that Jovens was right; Father Ricktius would have allot to say on the matter. If he refused, Jim hoped that between his own protest and Harvey’s logic the two of them could convince the Father of the rightness of the decision. Jim was a warrior; by blood as his father had been; a soldier and even the gods knew this. Father Ricktius would have to accept that truth.

 

“Let’s go.” Jim said to Harvey as he walked up to him.

 

“A man confessing to his priest is his own business, and none I’ll take part in.” Harvey answered with a shake of his head. He motioned in the vague direction of the church. “I’ll be sleeping when you get back. Acquiring a new sword barer really takes it out of a man.” Harvey pat Jim on the shoulder and was about to walk away when he thought better of it and said, “Say a prayer to the god of fortune while you’re there. A little luck never hurt a man unless it was bad.” He applied a little pressure to Jim’s shoulder before withdrawing his hand, and he addressed Jovens. “Now where does your apprentice lay his head when he’s not working?”

 

“This way.” Jovens replied meeting Jim’s gaze one last time before turning away.

 

Jim swallowed. “You’re really not going to go with me?” Jim demanded and Harvey paused and looked back over his shoulder at him.

 

“If you can’t have courage to face a single man, how in the gods name can I depend on you to stand and face hundreds on the battle field?”

 

Jim’s features reddened with shame and he growled as he turned to the Smithy entrance. “Sleep well.” He snapped striding quickly away. His step only faltered when the church appeared, seeming imposing and to loom before him in a way it never had previously. He took a deep breath and pressed on, confident that Father Ricktius would not take the news well. He would try and guilt Jim into foregoing training in service of the gods. There would be hurt and accusations thrown at him and caused by him, but Jim was determined to stand firm. After all, Harvey was right; if he couldn’t stand up to one man what was the use of him facing hundreds in battle? He was angry with his new teacher and simultaneously admired him, and in the end, he felt abandoned by him. Was Harvey afraid to face the priest? Or merely attempting to teach Jim a valuable lesson? Jim doubted the latter and suspected the former, yet there was little he could do now except find his master.

 

Father Ricktius was in the library inspecting a newly bound book made in the scriptorium. Jim recognized it as one he had worked on and felt a brief sense of pride before Ricktius’ gaze fell upon him.

 

“Jim, I did not expect to see you before evening prayers. Has Jovens finally appreciated our arrangement and sent you early to the church?”

 

“No, Father Ricktius. We’re still working on the King’s orders.” Father Ricktius sat down at the reading table and waited for Jim to continue. Jim shifted his weight in discomfort and exhaled through his nose as he squared his frame to muster the courage to confess. “Father, you know I’m indebted to you and everything you have done for me. Your care for my soul and my body. I can never repay your kindness but,” Jim looked at the stone floor for a few seconds before contritely addressing his first mentor. “I’m not meant to be a man in service of the gods.” Jim took a visible breath. “Nor a blacksmith.” Surprise flared within Father Ricktius’ gaze and Jim held out a hand as he implored, “Which is not to say that I’m forsaking my duties to the church or Jovens. But I’ve become a sword barer for one of the King’s guard. He’s a lieutenant and I can’t pass up this opportunity to be what I’ve always strived to be, a man of courage.”

 

Father Ricktius struck a flattened palm against the table and rose to his feet so abruptly the chair he was seated in scrapped backward upon the floor nearly tipping over. “You mean a man of stupidity!” Father Ricktius snapped glaring at Jim. “Are you so cavalier about your own life that you would throw it to death at the feet of the first soldier that was foolish enough to take you under his tutelage?” The priest shook his head and smacked a hand down upon the table once more, causing the lamp flames to dance. “Jim, you were rightfully sold to the church and only by my grace have been permitted to learn a trade. You will cease this insanity of soldiering once and for all! I forbid you- “

 

“You have no right to forbid me _anything_!” Jim shouted back at Father Ricktius who fell silent in shock.  “I’m not a Brother, I’m not a blacksmith, but I am a soldier! My father was a soldier and his father before him. I’m their legacy, not yours, not anyone’s. It is by **my** grace that I have remained in your service this long. I will not be told what to do by you, or anyone I don’t choose to obey! I’m sorry Father Ricktius but this is what I’ve decided and I’m going to be lieutenant Bullock’s sword barer, and short of _killing_ me there is nothing you can do to prevent this!” Jim fell silent, the abruptness of it ringing in their ears. He was breathing hard, nostrils flaring, prepared for any challenge the priest would throw at him but a great calm spread across the older man’s face.

 

“You break my heart Jim.” Father Ricktius stated softly. “Do not expect me to crow over your accomplishments in battle.”

 

“You’re a man of peace.” Jim stated just as subdued, hope in his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect praise from you; only your forgiveness.”

 

Father Ricktius shook his head. “That I fear, you will never have again.” The priest turned away from Jim and walked towards the library exit leaving Jim dumbfounded where he stood.

 

Jim felt his eyes prick with harsh tears and he wiped his eyes quickly refusing to cry. He felt the words to his core, the anguish he had caused the priest, and yet he could not feel too sorry for the outcome. He was going to be Harvey’s sword barer and learn the trade of war from someone he had been waiting for his entire life. While it was unfortunate that Father Ricktius could not be happy for him, Jim couldn’t blame the man’s anger; given his position he was furious and hurt as well and it was only fair to permit someone else the feelings in kind.  Heartsick, Jim turned and made for the library door wondering when Father Ricktius would talk to him again, if ever.

 

He walked slowly back to the Smithy his head full of conflicted thoughts he decided that one thing was for certain; when it was time to serve the church, he would show up at its doors and make himself of use. Just as he had in the past and would continue to do in the future, until such time he left the settlement with Harvey.  It was the least he could do as well as the right thing to do.  Silent and sullen he returned to Jovens and pulled on the smith apron over his clothes and took the hammer out of the front pocket. He returned to work not looking at Jovens yet feeling his gaze upon him. The man permitted him to go unquestioned for over an hour but curiosity was burning within him.  Jovens placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder to let him know he was at his side and their gazes met.

 

“Father Ricktius?”

 

“He doesn’t understand.” Jim allowed without bitterness. “Nor does he give his blessing.”

 

Jovens gave him a sympathetic smile and asked, “What will you do?”

 

“Whatever I; or lieutenant Bullock; tells me to.” Jim reasoned loud enough to be heard above the flames in the forges. “There is nothing else **to** be done.”

 

“There’s always metal work, Jim.” Jovens stated patting him on the back before returning to his own station. “There’s always metal to be worked.”  Jim smiled at this grateful for Jovens’ commiseration.

 

Later that night as Harvey snored on Jim’s straw mattress, Jim lay on the hard floor with a blanket and stared up through the slats in the roof at the stars. He knew he was making the right decision but it hurt him to cause Jovens and Father Ricktius such pain.  Upon enduring a loud, abrupt snore; Jim looked at Harvey. Not quite the way he had planned to have Harvey in his bed, but for now it would suffice to make his training a reality. Jim’s face warmed and his breathing hitched a little; now that he shared the loft with Harvey there was no way he could pleasure himself any more. Certainly not uttering Harvey’s name breathlessly as he came. The man would set him on his ear and soon separate his hand from his arm in disgust. For now, Jim kept both his hands above the covers.

 

Jim awoke an hour before sunrise as normal and saw that Harvey was still sleeping. He went quietly about his routine, dressing and then crawling out the window to the first-floor roof. He washed as per usual and made his way to the market. This time he paid for two apples; and instead of cheese got a sausage to share with Harvey, for moving a few barrels; two of pickled fish and one of dried jerky. When he reached the church yard and moved to the chicken coop he was met by a nervous faced Brother Melvin, holding the basket.

 

“Oh gods.” Brother Melvin said in way of greeting. “I was hoping to have them gathered before you arrived.”

 

Jim looked from the basket to Brother Melvin. “What? Why are you gathering the eggs?”

 

“I awake early. Father Ricktius has charged me to the chickens. I’m sorry Jim, but he has no use for you this morning.”

 

Jim swallowed eyes narrowing with challenge and edged by pain. “And tomorrow?”

 

Brother Melvin smiled sheepishly in apology and showed Jim the basket in immediate response. “I have been tasked with the chickens from now on.” He nodded his head, expression sad as he offered, “I will miss your help with the ledgers. Always such a steady hand and exact with your numbers. Perhaps one-day Father Ricktius will allow for your service once more.”

 

“Thank you, Brother Melvin. As do I.” Jim stated automatically. He took a step back from the lean, twitchy man and allowed him to carry on with his business. Jim looked at the door to the kitchen side entrance and swallowed. Perhaps it was only a short tantrum the priest was playing at, or Jim had indeed been successful in severing the service bond between them. Either way he no longer would be afforded the benefits of the church, though he would not have to serve them either.  Jim slowly made his way back to the Smithy, surprising Jovens when he arrived. Jovens frowned in sympathy, guessing at why Jim was back and Jim nodded to him in gratitude. He made for the ladder to the loft and climbed up to find Harvey siting up upon the straw mattress scratching his red mane of hair.

 

Eyes bleary, Harvey looked at Jim.  “Where the hell have you been? It’s sunrise.”

 

“I,” Jim paused realizing that explanation was painful so he merely pulled the wrapped sausage and apples out of his otherwise now empty purse. “Getting breakfast.”

 

“Good.” Harvey snatched the sausage out of Jim’s hand and took a huge bite out of it before grabbing the apples as well. “So far you’re a very good sword barer.” Harvey put the last of the sausage in his mouth and reached for his sword. He tossed it in its sheath to Jim, who reflexively caught it. Upon swallowing the meat he said, “Fix the nicks in that beauty and use only the best iron. Be quick about it and we’ll begin with your induction as barer.” Harvey took a bite of apple and looked at Jim standing there staring wishfully at the apples in his hands. “What? Get on with you. Go!”

 

Jim obeyed stomach growing in longing as he descended the stairs, sword belt slung over one shoulder, the sword itself down his back. He could hear Harvey crunching and saying, ‘Mmm. Fresh.’ Up above him when he paused to listen. Dejectedly he reached the ground and unsheathed Harvey’s sword right away to inspect it for stress fractures. He set to work rapidly and within fifteen minutes was outside the Smithy door with his new master and teacher. Harvey carelessly tossed the apple cores into a pig pen across the street and led Jim in the direction of the settlement exit. They needed a wide-open space to practice without distraction from the townsfolk.

 

“Pity.” Harvey mused as he chose a spot to stop. He looked at Jim. “Would have really loved to take you to the training circle but this will have to do. He drew the long sword from the scabbard upon his back and motioned to Jim. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

Jim took the sword belt from around his shoulder and withdrew the short sword from its sheath. He tossed the belt and scabbard to one side and took his footing. Never mind that he was out classed by Harvey and the long sword; he knew enough strategy to use the weapon in hand to his advantage at least. Jim and Harvey circled one another once and Harvey showed his arrogance by spinning the long sword once around in his hands. Jim mirrored the action with a single hand and the short sword and knew that Harvey wouldn’t strike first. Squaring at the ready Jim did just that; he struck.

 

For the next fifteen minutes Harvey tested and bullied and frustrated Jim, watching him struggle to keep his composure. The younger male was attempting to keep his cool but often the cracks would show and his competitive nature would reveal itself colossally. Each time he did so, Harvey pressed him harder but Jim didn’t break further; he was always in control of himself and that in itself was promising. Harvey stopped toying with him and for the next ten minutes took Jim’s measure. He definitely had a good foundation to build on of basic skills which Harvey was thankful for. Now he wouldn’t have to waste time giving Jim the most rudimentary of instruction. Finally, Jim was sweating and Harvey told him to put the short sword down, Jim obeyed and Harvey immediately threw his long sword at him. Jim caught it, confidently without too much wobbling. Harvey moved to pick up the short sword and then motioned for Jim to attack him, telling him to give an over handed chop with the weapon.

 

The blade of Harvey’s long sword kicked up dirt and debris when it hit the ground but the old solider was smiling like a madman. “Nice bit of footwork, Jim.” Harvey praised switching hands with the short blade. “Now let’s see what you can really do against me.” The heavier sword was bound to wear Jim down quickly, but Harvey was pleased to see that Jim pushed through his aches and exhaustion; he had heart and that was even more important than skill. He was determined and not one to be turned away, nor turn away easily. By the time Harvey called an end to the testing, Jim was drowning in sweat and had a few shallow cuts on his forearms from Harvey’s short sword skill.

 

Harvey returned the long sword to its scabbard and reached down on the ground for the short sword belt. He put it on and Jim handed him the weapon, before wiping blood off his arm with the tail of his shirt.  “You’re smiling.” He stated looking at his master. “That’s a good thing.”

 

“Is it?” Harvey challenged barely winded from their efforts. He was surprised that Jim wasn’t huffing and puffing more; perhaps it was all those runs he took to the training camp and back that helped him breathe so clearly.  “You have a lot of work to do just to get you up to subpar soldiering.”

 

“That’s not true.” Jim stated placing his hands upon his hips and smiling smugly. “I’m better than a novice and I know it.”

 

“Do you now?” Challenged Harvey placing his own hands upon his hips. “In battle,” He motioned to Jim’s forearms. “those arms of yours would be on the field and you’d be looking for them among the corpses until you fell where you stood. Not a pretty picture, but if you think you’re no novice.” Harvey shrugged and his hand returned to his hip. “Who am I to say?”

 

Jim looked at the shallow cuts on his arms placed there by the short sword. He had barely noticed them at the time but now that the adrenaline was wearing off he could feel them tugging in pain. Lifting his gaze from the cuts he said, “Teach me; right now, how you did this.”

 

Harvey shook his head. “I’ll teach you whatever I want, when it suits me. For now? I want you to clear a sword circle.” He motioned to the tall grass around them.  “After that? I’ll let you play with my long sword until super.” Harvey lifted his eyebrows lewdly and Jim blushed crimson. That was until he looked around the ground they stood on and realized it was going to be a monumental effort on his part to get the area cleaned. He would need to borrow some tools from his neighbors, but he wouldn’t have much time to work on the field before it was time to help Jovens in the Smithy.

 

Jim’s stomach growled and the smile on his face fell into a frown.  “Get on it.” Harvey instructed turning to walk away. “I have a second breakfast awaiting me at the tavern. That sausage and apples weren’t very filling you know.”  Crestfallen Jim watched Harvey leave and took his time following him. This was going to be a long day.

 

The days passed in equal measure with monotonous work at the Smithy and inordinately tedious work on the sword field. Most of what Jim had done with his time was recreate a very rudimentary training camp in full view of anyone passing the settlement. He had crude targets set up to replicate men for various weapons training, heavy and large logs to swing to build strength and speed to simulate long sword drills and an un capped pitch fork to use as a quarter staff and spear.  It was his duty to keep the ground free of debris and weeds, something Harvey took great joy in both watching and ordering him to do. He was not required to keep Harvey’s weapons sharpened and clean as the older male did that himself. He was however responsible for procuring breakfast for Harvey every morning which meant more trade for manual labor than ever before.

 

Every week a stipend was granted to Jovens who paid Jim a few coins to feed himself on. Now that Father Ricktius had withdrawn Jim from service of the church that meant the payments stopped immediately, and the communal kitchens were closed to Jim for the main meal of the day. Keeping Harvey fed was paramount to feeing himself, and it wasn’t long before Jim collapsed during training from hunger. When Harvey learned that Jim hadn’t been eating he cuffed him soundly on the head and yelled at him to feed himself daily. From then on Harvey procured all his meals at the tavern and a few vendors in the markets slipped Jim some spare produce whenever possible. Jovens shared one meal daily with Jim and balked at how badly Harvey was treating him.

 

“Shouldn’t your master be responsible for feeding you?”

 

“It’s not like that with Kings guard. Especially since he doesn’t have lands of his own, so how can he care for me?”

 

Jovens looked at him incredulous. “And still you want to serve him?”

 

Jim nodded. “Trust me Jovens, he’s the type of soldier I want to be. If I have to sacrifice a few meals to become him, then so be it.”

 

Jovens shook his head and broke a small bread loaf in half and handed part of it to Jim. “How can you expect to be like him if you’re too weak to fight?” Jim had to admit Jovens had a fair point.

 

“I eat. Just not always three times a day.”

 

“Abuse is what it is.” Jovens shook his head. “A master should take better care of his lessers.” In most cases Jim would agree, but for now he was content to serve Harvey regardless of what it may cost him.

 

Chapter four: The Fall

Fall was approaching and Jim had been training with Harvey, only stopping when he had to work in the Smithy with Jovens. While Harvey attended gods day at the church each week, Jim knew he was neither welcomed nor wanted to be reminded of his failure to convince Father Ricktius to forgive him. Instead he worked at the forge to make certain Jovens didn’t fall behind on anything pending the settlement or the King. A few of Harvey’s comrades along with sergeant Kellen visited Jim’s crude training circle and put him through his paces. In return for their indulgence Jim fixed their weapons. A few of the men; impressed with Jim’s abilities and no doubt encouraged by Harvey; gifted Jim with older weapons. Jim then refurbished them and learned to use them, like the Sai’s and war hammer. He also began to learn how to throw knives with some accuracy under duress, yet that was only a concept at the moment and a practical vast work in progress. His skills with the bow were abysmal yet melee and trauma weapons securely held his interest.

 

Jim was enjoying his new regimen; his body was changing, growing harder and stronger by the day.  He was singularly focused and while he hoped he was making Harvey proud, Jim’s full concentration was on learning the skills necessary to keep himself and others alive in battle. Focused and intense was how Jim threw himself in to his lessons. He won some admiration from his new opponents and they; with Harvey spear heading the negotiations; appealed to Commander Dalling to lift his ban of Jim from the official training camp. While Jim didn’t hold out any hope that the decree would be reversed he kept training and absorbing all the could from those around him. Soon enough he would apply to the King’s army once he was certain Father Ricktius wouldn’t change his mind and still obligate Jim to the church. So, ensconced in his new life it was a shock when he saw a King’s guard Calvary messenger appear at the settlement with both a horse and a message for Harvey.  Whatever the sealed document said, Harvey never revealed it but his features tightened in grave understanding and he immediately called for Jim to bring him his things. Jim obeyed and as he handed the saddle bags and long sword up to Harvey who was seated on the horse, concern flooded his blue eyes.

 

“You’re leaving? For how long?”

 

“I don’t know.” Harvey informed belting the long sword to his torso. “But you’ll wait here for me.” He instructed pulling on his heavy leather gloves. “Don’t go to the training camp or get into any other trouble while I’m gone. Understand?” Jim nodded that he did only realizing he had a hand grasping Harvey’s leg when the horse moved forward and pulled him along. Reluctantly Jim released his hold and watched the messenger and Harvey ride at a quick trot away. People were murmuring about war and the possibility of dark times ahead, but Jim heard none of it. He watched until Harvey rode out of his sight and he turned to address Jovens.

 

“He’ll come back.” Jim stated more to assure himself than the blacksmith. Jovens smiled gently and placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder guiding him in the direction of the forges.

 

“As they do.” Jovens patted Jim’s shoulder sympathetically. He had delivered the last of the King’s main order two days prior and was merely making long bow arrows, the shipment of wooden shafts arrived that morning. It was war; it could be nothing else and Jovens could feel it in his bones. He hoped that Jim would follow Harvey’s instructions and not do anything foolish while the soldier was away.

 

Harvey and the messenger rode hard to the castle a few miles beyond the official training camp. By the time he reached the main gates both horses were lathered from their race to duty.  Harvey slid easily from the saddle and threw the reins at the stable boy; a mere King’s army hopeful himself; and instructed him to keep it and his bags at the ready. He strode off in direction of the war hall where the generals and upper echelon of the Army all collaborated upon their strategies over a map of the known world spanning the long, mahogany conference table. The King and princes stood at one end of the table, the generals to either side of them, and so on and so forth down the commanding ranks to the opposite end of the table where both the Quarter and Weapons Masters waited patiently for direction.  Harvey found his place amongst the table, two people down from the King’s Calvary Commander.

 

“The South,” Announced the King and the room came to a dead silence and all bodies held still. “has declared war upon our lands to the west. They sent an Armada and took the trading routes from Scall to Gods Rock.” Muted gasps and shuffles of disbelief sounded and quickly died when the King’s lips parted once more and he addressed the assembly. “They move through our lower lands with impunity, but no more! I want them stopped and quickly, before they reach any further North!” The King looked sternly at his generals.  “Now, speak Generals and advise me how to win my crown this war.”

 

Harvey felt a slick nausea curdle in his stomach as it always did with talk of going to battle.  He was older now; seasoned and certain to die. How many campaigns had he survived thus far, weighed against how many more he would fight in? Too many and the odds were stacked against him. While usually the thought of death didn’t upset him; and it was merely the fact that green recruits were going to be thrown beneath his command and get themselves needlessly slaughtered in droves by the enemy; this time one of those recruits would most likely be Jim. The blond, blue eyed, tenacious badger had somehow burrowed his way into Harvey’s heart as a _liked_ human being. There weren’t many people that shared that distinction as Harvey trusted little despite being nice to all. Jim was still learning and not ready to stand in a shield wall, let alone charge forth on horseback into the fray. At least, he wasn’t by Harvey’s estimation. In a time of war, it wouldn’t matter how prepared or not someone was; if they were part of the army they were deployed to fight. As the hours drug on strategies were argued for, planned and orders finally given. Before sunrise the Calvary and support footmen would be leaving the fortress walls and march Southward.

 

Harvey was going to war.

 

Rumors were rampant in Jim’s settlement but hard proof came when the sound of the army marching and thunder of horse hooves and wagon wheels rumbling, echoing across the fields reached it. Many people dropped their daily chores and ventured out to the edge of their lands and watched as a dust cloud and seemingly endless lines of men, horses, oxen and wagons snaked away into the distance. Jim was one of the on lookers convinced that Harvey was there; somewhere; and he ached to follow him.  The look on his face must have been one of vast concern as he felt someone move to stand beside him, not knowing that it was Father Ricktius until he spoke.

 

“They are in the gods hands now.” Stunned to see him, let alone be addressed by him; Jim looked at his previous benefactor.

 

“I’m more than old enough to be with them.”

 

Father Ricktius smiled sadly and sighed softly. He searched Jim’s gaze. “And yet here you stand; to protect those left behind.”

 

But really what could one man do against an army, Jim wondered? Of course, there were a few able-bodied men in the settlement; several in fact; but they were farmers and tradesmen, not warriors. Jim realized abruptly what he could do to better life in the settlement.  Jim placed a hand upon Father Ricktius’ shoulder.

 

“You’re right Father. I am here for a reason. Come with me, would you please?” Jim’s hand dropped to Father Ricktius’ arm and he guided him in the direction of the settlement elders gaping and gossiping about the army columns disappearing into the horizon.  “Elder Glockton, Elder Myers. May we have a word please?” Both men turned to gaze at Jim, not exactly welcoming but once they saw that Father Ricktius was with him they visibly relaxed. Once Jim reached them he wasted no time in explaining himself.  “While the King’s army is in the south, I think it would be beneficial to our settlement if every able-bodied man spent a few hours daily training with me to protect our lands. Just in case that- “

 

“Protect our lands? Why don’t be ridiculous. The King’s army is being sent to protect us from invasion. See? They head south and by the gods there is nothing better for our settlement to do than continue to harvest and make ready their supplies. They fight for us, Jim. You might take it upon your shoulders to be one of them, but the people here are in service of the King and quite safe, I assure you.” This from Elder Myers and Elder Glockton readily agreed, and looked to Father Ricktius for support.

 

“I agree with the Elders, Jim. If any able-bodied man wishes to train when he is not working the fields or trade then that is between him and the gods. It should not be mandatory; for the army is sent to do its job, while we remain behind to complete ours.”

 

Frustration furrowed Jim’s brow. “I know that the thought of war is unpleasant; but you have to understand that the army deployment means that there is only the King’s Hearth Guard left in the castle. They are spread too thin and too far away to be of any use to us. If any invaders make it around the main body of the army we’ll be open to slaughter. If we all just take a few hours a day, there’s a chance that we would be able to defend ourselves successfully.”

 

Elder Glockton chuckled and shook his head. “You are being ridiculous Jim. I agree that Father Ricktius is wise in these matters. You may ask others to join you, but keep in mind the fall harvest is just a moon cycle away and every able-bodied man in the settlement will be needed to work it.”

 

“Hear, hear.” Elder Myers chimed reaching out but not touching Jim condescendingly. “Look to your own duties with Jovens, Jim. The Smithy is where you best serve us all.” The Elders walked away at that point signaling the end of the discussion. Helplessly Jim looked at Father Ricktius who merely shook his head in disbelief.

 

“By the gods you _are_ a stubborn alarmist.”

 

“No.” Jim refused in disagreement. “I’m cautious and I’m telling you Father; we need a militia like larger settlements employ.”

 

“And whom do you suppose funds their activities? The famers? The Elders? The _church_?” Father Ricktius demanded incredulously. “You are no longer a child, Jim. Cease thinking and behaving like one and the gods will guide you to your destiny. Until such time, you are but a menace to those around you. Filling their heads with outrageous scenarios pandering to fear. Shame on you.” Father Ricktius took a step backward from Jim. “To think I worried about your soul, when it is clearly lost to war.”

 

“Father Rickitus,” Jim pleaded not knowing quite else what to say but the priest turned and left him standing alone. Jim looked around him and saw the two Elders speaking to a few farmers; they all glanced in Jim’s direction and laughed raucously. Heart sick, Jim turned and headed back towards the Smithy. He might not be able to convince the rest of the settlement to listen to him but he would at least try. He showed up that evening in the tavern and stood up on one of the benches and presented his case.  Some people laughed at him, some threw food waste at him, and still others gaped at him in disbelief. He was drug down from the table by three farmers and thrown out of the tavern, much to Jovens’ disgrace. Alone and unheeded Jim walked back to the Smithy through the emptied streets of the settlement.

 

The next day Jim waited at the training sword circle to see if anyone would join him; no one did. The following day a famer and his two sons arrived and Jim began teaching them basic weaponry stance, with the promise to make them all swords for their loyalty to the settlement and their King. In the days that followed the three males showed up off and on, sometimes other men came out of curiosity but only the two sons of the famer remained steadfast. They at least wanted to learn so Jim taught them and honed his own skill set.  The bulk of the day he spent at the forges or as an extra hand for the fall harvest reaping. He was confident that he was the settlement’s fool; a joke among his peers and the Elders all avoided him, laughing once he passed; as for the Brothers of the church, they kept their distance just because Father Ricktius had basically disowned Jim for a second time. Jim knew that he should go to the castle to enroll in the army; but Harvey had asked him not too and there was still a harvest to bring in. Therefore, Jim remained at the settlement and waited for a sign from the gods.

 

One morning Jovens sent Jim to the mines a couple of settlements over. It wasn’t an uncommon thing for him to do and as Jim walked down the road with the horse and cart, he was quite relieved to be out of the township for several hours. Once at the mines the only talk he heard was of war; or rumors that were pure speculation because no one knew for certain what the Southerners had planned, or what ills they were bringing the north. Jim had to go down into the mine and work a vein or two of raw materials from the earth and it took him the greater part of the day. By the time he surfaced to load the cart he was surprised to find that most of the men milling around on the surface were nowhere to be found. It was strangely quiet and the horse was anxious, moving in its harness and nickering to no one.  Jim smelled the air and realized he recognized the scent of burning wood and a hint of something far more sinister.  Jim walked a fair distance uphill to scout the top ridge; still there was no sign of anyone yet there was a thick, black, column of smoke off in the distance. A distance that if he calculated correctly was in the direct area of his settlement. Dread instantly seized Jim; a fire had broken out; perhaps originating from the forges or market place, and was running unchecked through the settlement. Jim raced back down to the cart and quickly unhitched the horse and swung himself up upon it’s back, he pulled the reins and turned the horse in direction of the main road. While the farm animal could not run that fast, it was faster than walking.

 

Halfway to the settlement the horse stumbled over an unseen hole in the ground pitching both itself and Jim forward. Jim flew off over its head and the horse went down with a sickening cry. It lay upon the ground rolling, attempting to stand but it’s front leg was curled up towards it’s body and useless to it. Jim rose and dusted himself off. He moved to the horse and grabbed the halter to still the thrashing of its head. That was when he noted the blood pooling near the leg and saw the knee was split open revealing tendons and bone.

 

“No!” Jim whined trying to inspect the grievous injury but the horse wouldn’t permit it, thrashing in agony as it was. “Oh gods.” Jim stated in immense sympathy as he watched the animal writhe and suffer, he drew the dagger he had taken to carrying with him; from his belt and reached for the horse’s head. He swallowed as his gaze met the widened and painfilled eye of the familiar horse and he pet it soothingly. “I’m sorry.” He stated with emotion lodged in his throat. “I’m so, so, sorry.” He placed a hand over horse’s eye and it stilled its head, neck trembling and body squirming ever so slightly. Jim found the carotid artery by sight and stabbed his dagger once; rapidly; into the give of the animal’s throat. A stream of blood arched up into the air and emptied rapidly onto the ground. Jim lowered the dagger onto the ground and then pet the horse’s muzzle with his free hand, keeping his opposite over the creature’s eye. He soothed and petted until the blood barely flowed and the chest of the horse went still. He felt angry tears on his face and Jim picked up the dagger and wiped it off in the horse’s mane. He rose to his feet and looked at the dead beast before turning his back to it and slowly began to run; he picked up speed as his tears dried; arms pumping and the dagger clutched in his hand. Jim ran towards the column of smoke and felt the burn of it in his eyes and lungs from the wind as he increased his speed. The settlement needed him and he felt so far away, and yet he ran.

 

Instinct compelled Jim to leave the main road and approach the settlement from the west where the stone church was located. The smoke and flames were thick, he could see them from his vantage point up the hill. He heard horses and screaming and he lowered himself to the ground; at a different perspective as he was he could see down into the settlement. There were Southern soldiers setting fire to the markets and housing, businesses and storage huts surrounding the center of the town. Aghast, Jim looked from the market place up to the church. He could see smoke rising out of some windows in the upper floor. He knew that the textiles supply and products were housed there and burning. He looked down near the gardens and saw that they were trampled, a few monks lying very still on the ground. Jim carefully made his way down the slope towards the gardens, noting the chicken coups were toppled and several chickens ran freely around the yard.

 

Cautiously he entered through the church kitchens and found the place ransacked and another dead Brother. Jim tried not to look at the body, too intent upon not being caught. He paused to pick up a butcher’s knife from the floor and held it so the top of the blade was along the underside of his forearm as he had been taught. There were Southerners in the church, seeking gold of the gods; Jim snuck by them and hunched down as he made his way along the corridor to the library. Flames licked the walls of shelving as the books burned inside. He moved past the door quickly, covering his mouth and holding his breath. His destination was Father Ricktius’ quarters where he knew a hidden entrance to a basement level of the church was located. He had spied Father closing it once and filed the knowledge away for later use. He assumed that all the gods’ gold and keep sakes of the church were stored there when not in use.

 

As he made his way past the Brother’s cells he noticed that there was a lot of blood on the walls and floors of both the hallway and in the open rooms. He only bothered to note if there was anyone moving inside each room but kept going otherwise. There was a bit of blood outside of Father Ricktius’ half opened chamber door and Jim pushed the door slowly the rest of the way open. He heard a grunt and gasp of pain, before noting Father Ricktius’ form seated on the floor. He held one hand to his side, his robes stained with blood and it was dark seeping between his fingers, the opposite hand raised defensively.

 

“Jim.” He breathed in relief. Jim immediately moved to where the Father sat. “Help me, up. I must,” Ricktius paused and took a pained breath. “There is something I must recover.” He waved his opposite hand in the direction of a small book case. “There. Help me.” Jim dropped the knife and placed the Father’s arm around his shoulders and walked him to the book case. Ricktius leaned against the wall and motioned to Jim to tug at the book case. “There. The door is just there.” He whispered squinting his eyes shut for several seconds. He sounded out of breath and there was a deep wheeze emitting from him followed by a gurgling sound.

 

Jim did as he was instructed and the book case gave way to open on unseen hinges of a smaller door. Jim helped Father Ricktius through the door way and carefully closed it behind him. Next, he was directed by his pervious master to light a lamp. In the dark Jim groped for the lamp to use a lit candle to set the wick aflame. “There,” Father Ricktius pointed down a short hall cloaked in darkness. “the stairs. Leave me here and take them to the bottom to grab that which you need.”

 

Father Ricktius leaned heavily against the wall. “Which is what, exactly?” Jim challenged moving towards the stairs regardless.

 

“You’ll see the treasure once you are there. Not the ornaments or gold, but the true treasure in your eyes.” Jim left Father Ricktius slumped against the wall in the light of a single candle and obeyed the direction. At the bottom of the stair case was a small anti-chamber. He noticed some of the finer ornamentation of the gods’ festivals and celebrations but ignored them. His gaze instantly homed in on the one thing in the corner of the room that was truly a treasure: a sword.  Jim immediately hurried to the scabbard and picked it up. It was made from leather but tooled nicely with a crest on either side of it. Jim put the lamp down and unsheathed the sword, examining the hilt as he did so, before taking note of the blade. There was nothing innately special about the blade itself past the exquisite craftsmanship. There was a stress line that looked like it had been reinforced as well as a few nicks, but other than that it was sharp and a fine sword. Jim attached the scabbard to his torso and grabbed the lamp and made it to the stairs and up to Father Ricktius.  Jim rushed quickly over to the man that was now seated upon the floor bleeding heavily from his wounds. He was wheezing and gasping for breath and Jim saw blood at the corners of the man’s mouth. He knelt before him.  “Father.”

 

Father Ricktius smiled seeing the sword upon Jim’s back. He grabbed one of Jim’s hand and squeezed tightly making certain their gazes were locked as well. “Heed me, Jim. The sword; was your father’s gift to you. Take it; get out of the settlement and follow the army. There is nothing for you to do here any longer, we are slain and prepared for the judgement of the gods. Go; do what good you can for the King. Don’t stay here. Promise me.”

 

“Father,”

 

“Make the vow!” Ricktius snapped with as much conviction as he could muster while dying. He broke into a wet cough and blood trickled down his chin.

 

Jim knew death when he saw it and nodded. “I’ll do as you ask.”

 

Father Ricktius closed his eyes with immense relief. “Go now. Hide in mines, or the forest but do not stay here.” Father Ricktius began to mutter a blessing for peace and forgiveness as his voice trailed away and he finally breathed no more. Jim stared at his slack face for several seconds and rose to his feet, carefully withdrawing his hand from the dead priest’s. Jim swallowed, anger boiling as he pushed on the door carefully; slowly and re-entered Ricktius’ chamber. He made his way back the direction he had come and once out in the dipping sunlight he looked from the ruined garden to the main bulk of the settlement. The screams had stopped, the horsemen were circling and the foot men seeking out what treasure they could find. Jim reluctantly turned and hurried back up the slope and away from the settlement. He spied upon the Southerners in the square trying to gage what part of the south they hailed from and predicting when they would leave the settlement if at all.  Jim spent a long, cold, hungry night waiting up the hill for dawn to break. Once it did the Southerners exited the town and made their way down the main road in the direction of castle.  The King’s Hearth Guard were still at the castle fortress regardless that the bulk of the army had marched south. There were new recruits and mercenaries to also defend the King. For now, Jim’s loyalty remained to his settlement and he slowly made his way down into the ruin of his previous home.

 

As he went from structure to structure Jim began to gather the mutilated bodies, or burned bodies and drug them to the center of the square.  The hardest was finding Jovens at the Smithy, impaled by a spear head to the anvil. His hammer was still in hand, bloodied as he had at least taken one of the Southern Bastards with him; the corpse laying near him as testament. Jim knelt beside the dead enemy and noted the patch upon the light, leather armor; it was a huntsman with three hounds. Jim took his dagger and cut it loose and pocketed it. He would need it later to track the enemy. This accomplished he scavenged the forge for anything that would be useful to him weapon or food; a few necessary supplies to take on the road with him.

 

Next, Jim added the flames of a mass pyre to the embers of the burning settlement, the black smoke joining the rest hovering in the air above him. He cried while he worked, dragging women and children to burn with their brothers, husbands and fathers; all family.  He wondered if he would find anyone alive but they were all dead; before the gods for judgement just as Father Ricktius had predicted. While Jim had done nothing because what could he do against a battalion of footman and a handful of cavalry scouts? The bulk of the killing had happened while Jim was in the mines. Without Jim who would be left to not only burn the dead but tell the story? While Jim hated doing nothing he had made a vow and intended to follow it. Harvey; he needed Harvey and his men; the soldiers that followed Harvey regardless of being under someone else’s command; and he needed them to return and hunt down every one of the advanced footmen and scouts like the beasts they were.  As Jim watched the bodies of the only people he had ever known his entire life; he promised every one of them that he would avenge them, and the Southerners with the huntsman banner would pay recompense with their lives.

 

Nearing midevening Jim had all the bodies but none of the animal carcasses in the funeral pyre. It was then he heard the thunder of hooves in the distance growing steadily closer. He turned his back to the pyre and calmly drew his father’s sword. It felt good in his hands; the balance excellent and Jim couldn’t hate Father Ricktius for never telling him of it or giving it to him. With the priest’s death, a grudge seemed senseless now and Jim waited for the horses to arrive, when then did he gripped the blade and stood ready to fight when abruptly a banner caught his notice: King’s Guard Calvary; a small contingent but one none the less; and one of the men was a familiar face.

 

Harvey.

 

Jim’s arms lowered the blade before him and his knees gave out and he slipped to the ground.  Harvey stopped his horse before the younger male and dropped from its back, moving to where Jim rested. He knelt before him, obvious relief upon his expression.  “Jim, are you- the only one left?” Jim nodded and Harvey was about to turn to address his second in command when Jim seized him by the wrist, their eyes locking.

 

“There’s two farms at the edge of town. I, I haven’t made it there to bring the bodies. There aren’t any horses left.”

 

Harvey nodded and touched Jim’s neck with his opposite hand. “I’ll have the men bring them. Don’t worry; we’ll get them here.” Jim nodded, grateful before his previous vow came to him abruptly.

 

“It’s time I join the King’s army.” Jim stated squeezing Harvey’s wrist. “Recruit me. You know I’m ready and I have a sword now.” Jim watched Harvey’s gaze glance from the sword to his gaze once more. “You can’t say no.”

 

“Jim,” Harvey reasoned. “Have you slept? Eaten anything?”

 

Jim shook his head. “I sat vigil all night until they left this morning. I’ve been feeding the pyre ever since. There’s no time.”

 

“We’ll _make_ time.” Harvey insisted. “You need to tell us everything you remember about the enemy. How many? What was on their banner? What direction they were headed? How well supplied they were? Everything.” Jim nodded.

 

“Anything.” Jim said softly. “As long as we kill every last one of them. **Anything** at all.”

 

As Jim ate, Harvey sent a few men to the outlining farms to collect bodies to bring back to the main square for burning. Jim lost his appetite when the men returned with the last victims of the massacre. Among them were the two farmer’s sons that he was in the middle of training. Guilt ridden he then told Harvey what supplies the Southerners had gathered from the settlement and what they most probably had in way of weapons. He gave their number to the best of his recollection and their banner standard. He showed Harvey the patch and watched as he passed it down to Kellen, their faces grave.

 

“Doggens.” Harvey said with disgust. “They own the forest lands in the south. They like war and they know how to kill. Bastards.” Kellen spat and Harvey looked from him to Jim. “We’ll head out after them, as soon as we’re finished here.”

 

“I’m coming with you.” Jim insisted. “I can work metal and I can fight; both things your men will need out there.” Jim motioned vaguely in the direction of the war. “You can’t say no.”

 

“I wasn’t going to.” Harvey assured placing a hand upon Jim’s shoulder. “Gather what tools and supplies you need. We’ll be in the saddle in less than an hour.”

 

This brought Jim up short and his expression blanched as he thought of the horse he had put out of its misery on the road. “I don’t have a horse.”

 

Harvey smiled. “Lucky for you we have a couple extra.” He patted Jim’s shoulder then withdrew his hand. “Be quick now.” Jim blindly obeyed and within ten minutes he was loading up his borrowed horse and making certain the tack was fitted well. He felt guilty about slaying his previous ride, but there was truly nothing that could be done for the beast yet to end its suffering. Jim patted the current horse and whispered to it a vow that he would protect its life, and then a quick blessing for its safety.

 

Kellen approached Jim having just left a discussion with Harvey and a few other men. He offered Jim a sympathetic smile and handed him back the Doggens patch. Jim pocketed it and Kellen’s smile vanished. “You don’t have leathers,” He referenced the light armor that the Kings guard wore when steel breast plates and limb guards were not in use over chain mail.  “But once we catch up with the main body of the army, we’ll get you some.” Should Jim live that long went unsaid yet Jim could clearly see the sentiment in Kellen’s eyes.  “Until then, try to dodge the swords and arrows yeah?”

 

“I will.” Jim stated monotone. He pet his horse and stroked it’s muzzle lightly. “Thank you for the horse.”

 

“Keep that alive too.” Kellen advised in all seriousness as he turned away and yelled for the men to mount up and follow their orders.

 

Once Jim was seated upon his horse he moved in the direction Harvey was and pulled up along-side of the older male.  “They should be at the castle,”

 

“They aren’t.” Harvey assured him in interruption. “They’re scouts; the enemy knows where the king lives and that we’ve marched away. No, they’re on the heels of the army. Most likely preparing to raid smaller settlements like yours and spy on us for their generals. We head towards our army, we find the Doggens scouts and eliminate them.” Harvey pulled the reins up and his horse halted and Harvey scanned the fires that were burning out in the settlement with his green, tired eyes.  “Such a waste.” He loosened the reins and his horse continued walking, Jim following silent beside him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The North goes to War and so does Harvey and Jim; whose vengeance is not forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes are my own but point them out if you'd like so I can fix them.
> 
> To my wife who is my loveliest sounding board and asks how I'm doing with my work.
> 
> This work isn't up to Joe Ambercrombie status but I hope future endeavors will. Go read his stuff; seriously; he's my favorite Historical Fantasy Author.

Chapter five:  War and Parting Ways

The first night by the fire Jim slept like the dead. He felt protected and safe with the knowledge that one of Harvey’s men was standing guard at all times during the night. He was not selected for a shift, though he would have gladly done so if Harvey hadn’t ordered the others to let him sleep. The next morning, they rode quickly, making good time and reaching the back end of the army advance before night fall. They did not encounter the Doggens contingent but they were on the strict look out for them. It was quite possible Harvey said that they had ridden eastward or holed up in an area to rest and enjoy their spoils before continuing onward. Jim didn’t care what they were doing, he was just anxious to find them.

 

At the army camp Harvey’s men billeted in the area assigned to the rest of the Calvary. While Harvey met with the general and upper commanders, Jim was outfitted with the leather and cloth outerwear of the King’s Guard Calvary. Next, he was given chain mail and outer armor to complete his battle regalia. It was heavy and he spent quite a few hours wearing it and drilled to become accustomed to moving in it. By the time Harvey returned it was diner time and a lot of the men were settling down to meals, some comradery and then sleep. Jim made certain he was at the same cooking fire as Harvey, his gear removed and resting among his horse’s tack and belongings. He would be sleeping outside of Harvey’s tent and didn’t care what the others may say about it.  Everything he had ever known had been taken away from him and he was numb with it, and determined to facilitate vengeance. For now, he would be Harvey’s shadow until such time that he was confident to stand on his own ground, in his own manner.

 

For his part, Harvey didn’t seem to mind Jim’s closeness at the fire or during their ride to the army. He permitted Jim his leisure and though he ate in silence by the fire, the other men around them laughed and competed in conversations boasting about their accomplishments in battle or in the whore houses.  Jim blushed when a couple of the men taunted him about how inexperienced he must be, not realizing that they were standing on the truth itself. Jim had the foresight to stare them down but he was ever aware of Harvey’s gaze settled upon his profile. It didn’t help fade the blush, but the light of the fire hid it from the other men and Jim was grateful of that fact. He knew that Harvey saw it though; or perhaps felt the heat of it beside him. Either way Jim didn’t chance to look up at the older male to televise how virginal he truly was. Once they were finished eating the men began to tend to their weapons and Jim did the same, only halfheartedly as he listened to ever increasing stories that suspended all truths. He refused to contribute to bald faced lies and surreptitiously watched Harvey through his eyelashes and peripheral vision. When the man rose, leaving the fire to head to his tent, Jim immediately followed. Once outside the tent Harvey addressed Jim.

 

“Think you’re going to sleep at my feet like a good little dog?”

 

Jim shook his head. “Outside your tent like a devoted servant.”

 

Harvey grunted. “So, I can fall over you in the night when I have to go and piss in the latrines. No, I don’t think so.” Harvey shifted his weight from one hip to the other as he regarded Jim’s terrified expression. Relenting he said, “There’s room enough opposite my cot. Tripping over you when I rise is just as easy as tripping over you when I step outside.” Harvey held the tent flap open and motioned inside. “Go.” Jim’s body relaxed with visible relief as he obeyed. No one saw him duck into the small tent and Jim was grateful to sleep on the ground beside Harvey.

 

“But don’t get used to it.” Harvey warned, and Jim quietly promised he wouldn’t. For the next seven nights Jim, shared Harvey’s tent and was called everything from a ‘dog’ to a ‘special little whore’. Whatever was said about him he didn’t expend any energy denying or confirming. Father Ricktius had always warned him that tongues would wag regardless of one’s personal fury, and therefore it was far better to concentrate upon one’s service to the gods instead of the idol conversations of men. It was a wise lesson and though at times Jim burned with the desire to refute the accusations he reminded himself to remain focused upon finding the Doggens advance scouts and revenge instead. For the most part, the others didn’t make accusations against Harvey, but when they did the amused Harvey retorted that at least he had sex luck with the attractive, eligible, males in the battalion.

 

The ribbing stopped altogether when the Calvary was given the first orders for the battle ahead. The Southern invaders had been found and war was inevitable.  Jim had learned over the past seven days to move in his gear; including the outer armor upon his torso; front and back; as well as arms. The first lines of contention had been drawn in a valley near the Elta River; both the south and the north had the advantage of being placed on hills overlooking the battle field. There was no advantage to either side, they both would have an uphill battle once the basin was taken. Jim’s heart was pounding in his chest while he watched the shield walls advance towards one another.

 

The clash of the men, shields, swords and armor was horrendous. The screaming began in earnest as the six lines of men came into contact. The archer’s arrows flew next raining down upon the shield footmen. Jim watched with horror as the volleys of arrows streaked dark across the sky. His horse shifted on its hooves and snorted, pawing impatiently at the ground. Jim heard Harvey’s voice, rough and familiar state his name to his left and he turned to look at the older Calvary officer.

 

“Take a breath; steady your hands; and calm yourself. The horse is feeding off your fear. Show it confidence. Yeah?”

 

Jim nodded and did as he was bid, hoping that he didn’t fail in his gathering of nerves. Harvey was right; he needed to focus; keep a clear head and patted the horse upon its neck gently. After a few minutes, the horse stood still and waited patiently along with the other Calvary horses in line. The field commander rode the line screaming at the officers in line to give the order to charge. Harvey’s voice carried the message to his men and in an instant, they were off. Hooves thundered kicking up turf as they raced downhill. The wind whipped in Jim’s hair and he felt like screaming in anticipation as well as fear. How could anyone ever survive this? Why had they been sent out so early? The shield wall wasn’t even broken- the thought died within Jim’s mind as his eyes gorged themselves on the ever-approaching footmen. The tight line of men had separated in several places and shields were displaced or discarded as the melee combat began in earnest. Pike men on both sides marched downward towards the fighting chaos of men to try and beat the Calvary to the basin. Horses whipped past Pike men and smashed chest first into the advancing footmen, swords swinging, horses and men screaming and Jim was nearly unseated by the force of it. It was surreal how uncoordinated and frenzied the close quarters battle was. He swung his sword, deflected blows and pierced flesh as he tried to keep one hand on the reins the other around the hilt of his weapon.  Whatever he did he didn’t wish to lose sight of Harvey. The previous night the older male had made him promise to be his shadow and Jim was intent upon obeying.

 

The smell of copper and dung was thick in the air, blood sprayed and Jim didn’t catalogue what damage he was inflicting, just merely pushed forward through the swarm and tried not to be unseated from the saddle or kill any of the north men by accident. His mouth was incredibly dry and he heard himself shouting above the din, heartbeat hammering within his own ear drums as his blood pulsed hot and thick in his veins. He was angry and released that fury into the space around him, going on instinct and muscle memory to keep himself from incurring lethal injury.

 

There was a moment when everything went silent except for the rush of blood in his ears. He felt a force of nature pull him downward from the saddle and he was falling, flailing and rolling to avoid being trodden upon by his own horse. He found his feet instantly and deflected a blow away from his skull, ears ringing with the impact of steel upon steel. Now deprived of the advantage of being on horseback the battle field constricted into the radius of his limbs, and he did his best to remain standing as he spun and struck with venom of survival in his veins. He would not be felled and he fought like a Wildman to show the southern warriors that he was blessed by the gods of war, his sword steady and his mind sharp.

 

When faced with a footman nearly twice his size Jim seized up a shield of a fallen southerner and deflected two immediate blows, the shield nearly hitting him in the head as his arm was pushed against him. He grunted and slashed at the larger man’s legs, but they were protected by thick, leather boots and steel shin and thigh guards. He tried to work his sword point at the juncture of the knee but the man was swinging a battle ax overhead and the shield split. Jim slipped in a pool of blood and managed; somehow; to keep his footing.  Jim was forced down to a kneel, and he was about to run out of sword luck when he heard a roar and the shield was felled in thrice, only the center piece remaining, the ax blade having missed Jim’s arm by a hairs breath. There was another roar and abruptly the raised battle ax didn’t hit him a second time, as Harvey pressed through the swarm on horseback to engage the ax wielding southerner.

 

Jim disentangled himself from the shield casting the board aside and found his feet once more. He turned to place his back in the direction of Harvey’s horse and took on another two southerners, both of whom were more his size and weight. One got trampled by a Calvary horse and the other nearly decapitated by Jim’s sword. He didn’t have time to process the fast-paced exchange before he was faced with another enemy. On and on he fought, beginning to flag but the adrenaline kicked in to send him another volley of strength to save himself and any northerners in his vicinity. He kept near as possible to Harvey’s horse, and when the horns sounded and Harvey shrieked at him to grab his arm Jim obeyed.

 

Harvey continued to yell words that were meaningless to Jim as he kicked and swung his sword at anyone near their horse or within arms distance. Seconds later Harvey had turned the war horse back in the direction of the northern hill and they raced up it, cutting down any southerner in their way. The horns sounded again, a rain of arrows began falling from the sky and there was more screaming of men and horses, but Jim held on to Harvey with one arm and kept swinging his sword in the opposite hand. Both of Harvey’s hands were on the reins and he was yelling orders to the Calvary and footmen around them. It seemed to take forever to reach the top of the hill and relative safety, but once they did, a second wave of archers was sent forward encased by footman front and back. Another contingent of Calvary waited to ride forth and Harvey reached a stop and Jim dropped from the horse onto the ground, holding onto Harvey’s leg with one hand, and in the other his lowered sword. Abruptly he realized Harvey was addressing him.

 

“You did good Jim. You’re a fine butcher. Are you hurt?”

 

Jim looked down at his once shiny armor and chainmail coated in blood, mud and grime he didn’t care to name. He didn’t know if it were his own blood or that of others, so he gaped dumbly at Harvey and shook his head. “I don’t know.” He said lowering to his knees. Harvey moved his horse a few steps aside and turned it around, as Jim was on all fours heaving up stomach bile from the over dose of adrenaline he had just experienced on the battle field. Harvey slipped onto the ground and grabbed Jim by the shoulder, making the younger male look up at him.

 

“Get up, Junior.” He hissed yanking Jim to his feet. “Calvary rides horses, not act like them.” Jim nodded, expression apologetic as he steadied himself upon his feet and put his sword into the scabbard strapped to his back.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t apologize either.” Harvey spat near his ear and drug Jim a few steps away from some other battalion members. “Now get yourself a fresh horse and get back in the advance line with the others. Understand?” Jim nodded and was shoved in the direction he was supposed to find said horse. “And don’t lose this one for gods’ sake! They don’t sprout up like wildflowers in the spring!”

 

Jim stumbled a few feet and then realized his legs were quaking. There were tears on his cheeks and he wiped them away in frustration, getting more blood on his face from his gloves. He felt like he was going to fall to the ground but he kept on walking, barely remembering to dodge anyone or anything that came into his walking radius. He made his way to the area where the horses were being kept and found a stable corporal and requested a fresh steed. When the corporal balked, Jim growled at him that he was a King’s Guard Calvary officer and he damn well better out fit him with a new horse or he would report him for insubordination. Just where the ruse came from, Jim would not be able to say later, but in the moment the lie felt like he was channeling Harvey’s demeanor so he surrendered to the fib and within two minutes was riding through the staging area to where Harvey was pointing to a map before the Calvary general.  Jim maneuvered the horse to the line where he saw other members of the Calvary he recognized as Harvey’s men and waited. Harvey had not returned when the order was given to ride and Jim felt as if it were someone else using his body to race into battle. Yet advance he did and repeated the previous charge, only this time further up the hill on the southern side rather than in the basin.

 

He lost track of time and Calvary members after that and only focused himself upon staying alive. This time he remained in the saddle and when he heard the horns again he was surprised to find they were calling from the southern side of the battle field. The southerners were falling back and the closest northerners to the line pressed their advantage, but stood their ground and waited for more of the north to reach them from behind. The north had won the Elta River valley and the day. Jim watched as southerners made a mad dash to retreat and it dawned on him that for now the fighting was over. He noticed a horse standing with blood on its flank and he rode over to it. Carefully he picked up the reins and lead it back in the direction of the northern staging area. He was half way there when he spied a second horse grazing among the corpses and he grabbed it’s reins as well.  Once atop the ridge he heard piercing whistle and looked over to see Harvey standing with Kellen, motioning him over. Once Jim arrived Harvey laughed without much mirth.

 

“Leave it to you to lose one horse and bring back two.”

 

Jim shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

 

“Good question.” Harvey motioned in the direction of the stabling area. “Turn them in, and get back here. I need to get the butcher’s bill.”

 

Jim nodded and continued walking the horses back to the stabling area and the corporal he had originally sniped at. He got off the horse and shoved all three reins into the man’s hands and turned away without comment or direction. He was covered in blood and didn’t feel like holding up the ruse any longer and said a quick prayer of thanks for sword luck and battle luck, before making a quick apology to the gods for lying to the stable corporal. By the time he reached Harvey his legs weren’t shaking but they felt heavy and useless. Within the next hour the men under Harvey’s command had been assembled and he was reading off to Kellen who was known to be present, dead or injured. The next thing he did was have Jim follow him to the medical tents and sent Kellen to regroup with the men and tend to their needs.

 

The smells of blood, piss and shit were overwhelming, only second to the screams and cries of the wounded. Harvey went through tent upon tent with Jim in search of Calvary riders. There was a tick by each name that was expected to die before morning, and a dash beside those that were wounded beyond further fighting capability. Those would be sent home, discharged from the ranks. Jim found himself longing for the ledgers that he and Brother Melvin recorded the King’s tribute in, when it wasn’t as dire as to have each mark mean the life of a man.  The next task was to walk the corpses and confirm the dead members of the battalion. The footman had begun to separate the north dead from the south and from there the north by duty, and battalion. Jim was practiced in moving bodies and helped with a few corpses. The flies and crows were already present and beginning to pick at them.

 

It wasn’t until a bit after sunset that Jim was able to remove his armor, chain mail and leathers. Until he could wash his hands and face of blood. He found a few scratches and a cacophony of bruises marring his visible flesh. This completed he went to Harvey’s tent to see if he could help the older man. He found him seated on his cot, head in hands, butcher’s bill clutched in one hand, armor, chain mail and leathers still on.

 

“Harvey?”  The man carefully raised his head and looked at Jim. “I brought you some water.” He held out the canteen skin in indication and Harvey reached out for it with his free hand. Jim moved closer and handed him the water skin.  “How bad is it?” He asked of the sheet of paper in his sword master’s hand.

 

“Bad.” Harvey said. “Half the horses and over a third of the men.” He sighed quietly and took a long pull from the water skin, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Jim watched him sympathetically and took the sheet of paper from him when he held it out for inspection, or just for someone else to have the responsibility of it for a moment. Either way, Jim took the paper.

 

Jim’s gaze briefly skimmed over the names, and Harvey stated, “With maybe a third more passing this night.” He shook his head. “Heavy losses like this? I wouldn’t be surprised if the remainder were absorbed by other commanders and I was put on the shield wall.”

 

“Would they really do that?”

 

Harvey shrugged. “I’ve seen it happen before.” He took another pull from the skin before capping it and handing it back to Jim. “This is the reality of war Jim. Still want to be a solider?” His gaze searched Jim’s face.

 

Jim moved still closer and knelt before Harvey, looked from the butcher’s bill to his commanding officer and held out the paper for him to take back. “I am what the gods made me. No matter how ugly it gets, how can I deny what I am?”

 

“You could be a blacksmith.” Harvey stated without judgement. Jim shook his head.

 

“When I’m old, but not yet.”

 

“You are as the gods made you.” Harvey agreed with a plaintive sigh. He ran a hand back through his red hair. “Idiot that you are.” He couldn’t help but crack a smile. “And now I’m stuck with you.” Harvey’s gaze locked with Jim’s in all seriousness. “You still wish to follow me?”

 

Jim immediately nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“Because I didn’t bring you victory.”

 

“I’m not here for glory.” Jim stated calmly. “Once this war is over, I’m going to hunt down the Doggens men that murdered everyone I loved; and end them.” He shrugged. “Only following you can I learn what to do too accomplish that. The gods brought us together,”

 

“You honestly believe that?” Harvey challenged in interruption. “That the gods are responsible?”

 

“Yes.” Jim stated devoid of doubt. “And I honor that gift.”

 

“I don’t doubt that.” Harvey permitted softly. He reached forward and placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder. “You poor, idiotic, bastard. I just may get you killed before you have the chance to reap your vengeance.”

 

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

 

“As you say.” Harvey sighed and wiped the hand that was once on Jim’s shoulder down his face. “We should get to the cooking fire before all the food is gone.” Harvey pulled himself up and Jim did the same.

 

“May I help you with your armor?” Harvey looked down as if surprised he was still wearing his battle gear.

 

“Yeah, that would be a great help.” In silence Jim set about helping to pull off Harvey’s armor, chain mail and finally leathers. This accomplished, the two of them exited the tent and headed in the direction of their battalion cooking fires, Jim following just behind Harvey.

Chapter six: Debts

Four more battles with the South and Jim had secured himself respect among the other Calvary members that Harvey commanded. Another field lieutenant approached Jim to request to be reassigned to his battalion, but Jim politely declined informing the man that he was loyal to Harvey.  As he maintenanced his weapons, Jim tried not to allow his frustration to show. On the one hand, he knew Harvey was good to his word of training him; grooming him for soldiering; yet on the other he was anxious to leave the main army and head off in search of the Doggens’ villains that had executed his settlement. He was beginning to realize that he was indeed truly on his own and if he wanted to hunt down the murderous bastards responsible that he would have to just leave and track them himself. How one man against near thirty could prevail, Jim wasn’t certain and he didn’t much care. He would go down fighting and take as many of the enemy with him as he could. Ever aware of Harvey’s stern eye, Jim waited until most of the camp was asleep before gathering his meager belongings and stood for a moment staring at Harvey. The man’s face didn’t even look peaceful when he slept; it was forever haggard and weighted by responsibility and Jim felt his heart ache at the prospect. He realized that he was not only immensely grateful to the older man for his life, but that he loved him; carried profound affection for him down to the bones. Expression sad, Jim quietly turned and exited the tent plaintively struggling to ignore the tears pricking his gaze. Once outside he picked his way carefully through the camp in the direction of the stabled horses and hid, waiting for long moments until one of the century arms men walked away so that Jim could duck under the holding fence ropes and select an animal. While he felt guilty essentially stealing a horse, he knew that he needed one if he were going to catch his prey. He hoped that Harvey would understand the note he left for him; would forgive him; and accept his promise to one day return if he wasn’t killed in the process of revenge.

 

Jim cut the holding ropes to guide his horse through them, before he paused long enough to tie the ends back together. He mounted walked further away from camp before sliding into the saddle and trotting his horse off in a westerly direction. He was headed back towards the King’s Hearth and memories of a life he thought would never change as quickly as it had.  Once far enough away from the camp he brought his horse back to a slower walk not wishing for it to stumble or injure itself during the ride. It was dark and though he could see somewhat, he knew it was too dark for the horse to follow much else but it’s instincts.  Jim tried to keep his tiredness at bay but counting off in his head possible scenarios for finding and then confronting his enemy. As hours ticked by the sun began to rise and it was easier to guide his horse over the ground. Midmorning he stopped at a stream and drank water for himself and let his mount drink it’s fill.

 

Crouched by its head he patted its neck and smiled reassuringly at it. “I’ll do my best not to get you killed.”

 

“What about me?”

 

The voice from behind him was unexpected and Jim yanked his Sai’s from his boots and spun to face the enemy, who was an ally. Upon the upper bank stood Harvey holding the reins of his own mount.  How he had gotten there undetected showed red and shame faced upon Jim’s annoyed expression.

 

“How?”

 

Harvey led his horse down to the water and watched Jim return his weapons to his boots and stand. He looked the younger male up from boots to hair giving a careless shrug.  “You’re easy to track. And do you honestly think; with as much noise as you make clomping around; that a man can sleep through your leaving?”

 

Jim looked downward unable to hold Harvey’s gaze. “I left a note.”

 

“That was a poor read!” admonished Harvey insulted by the attempt at explanation. “All the gods and their kin, Jim; you’re a poor wordsmith.”

 

“I never claimed to be a poet.” Jim defended himself looking up at Harvey now. “I’m a soldier.”

 

“And an idiot!” Harvey moved to his saddle and snatched his water canteen off it. He then slammed the thing against Jim’s chest in silent demand that he fill it. Jim instantly obeyed not completely convinced that Harvey wouldn’t kick him head first into the water just because he could.  “Do you think so little of my word to help you avenge your settlement that you would sneak off during the night like a coward rather than trust in me?”

 

“It wasn’t like that!” Jim defended sharply as he rose to his feet, the water canteen dripping. “You command Calvary; the King’s Guard needs you a sight more than I do. My battle isn’t yours Harvey, and I won’t see you killed on my account!”

 

Harvey grunted and nodded once before ripping the water skin out of Jim’s hands and corking it. He held the younger male’s gaze sternly for several, silent, seconds. “The King’s Guard will be no less weakened for the lack of two men.” He nodded and ran a hand down his beard before his mouth and chin. “You can’t do this alone Jim. You have to trust me.”

 

“I do.” Jim assured him gently. “But you’re _wrong_ ; I **can** do it alone, I just have a better chance of succeeding with you at my back.” He smiled sweetly and Harvey couldn’t help but crack a smirk as well.

 

“You’re going to be the death of me, Jim.”

 

Jim shook his head in disagreement, his smile broadening. “I gave you a just cause; something every soldier needs to win.”

 

“Not everything.” Harvey argued lightly. “Good weapons help; sword luck, the love of a willing man or woman, and a wink of favor from the gods.”

 

Jim’s smile faded. “The last, I didn’t believe until I saw the charge for myself.”

 

Harvey placed a hand upon Jim’s shoulder. “That, is the crux of every soldier’s experience Jim. They believe in gods at first, but if they fight long enough? They stop believing all over again.” He patted Jim’s shoulder reassuringly and then his cheek lightly. “Let’s get these horses moving before they drink their bellies full and pass wind far fouler than they already do.”

 

Jim laughed but grabbed the reins. He was glad Harvey was with him, though he suspected it was at a great cost. Still, he had given his word and Jim was thankful not to be alone.

 

Harvey felt to his bones that he wasn’t mistaken when he said that Jim would be the death of him.  His beautiful face, his deep blue eyes, plush lips, his close-cropped hair, and sinfully long eyelashes were breathtaking. He was handsome; more than so; and just looking at him caused Harvey’s heartbeat to grow rapid. More than his physical appearance Harvey felt drawn to protect the young man; teach him everything he knew in order to keep him safe. He fancied Jim’s insurmountable strength of character and resilience. His forthrightness and lack of ambition past whatever task was set before him. He found his inherent innocence delightful and determination boundless. If Harvey Bullock had ever loved anyone it was becoming increasingly clear to him that, that person was Jim. Harvey had become jaded over the years and believed he was destined to die on the battlefield unloved and unknown, which the latter was fine with him and the former just a tragedy. Yet it was the way in which the gods had created him and he couldn’t fight destiny as it always had a way of claiming a man no matter where he went or what he did to alter it.

 

Jim; he quickly realized; was more than a legacy; a student; but someone Harvey valued above all others including himself. Somehow the little defiant, pain in his backside had become paramount to his existence. He thought about and worried over Jim constantly regardless of what he was supposed to be contemplating. Every decision he made included Jim at the head of it, and on the battle field he had been obsessed with defending the younger male from harm. He wanted to dare to taste Jim’s lips; touch his body and caress his heart. He wanted Jim to love and need him just as much as he was wanted and required, but Harvey accepted that could never be. Jim was singularly focused on vengeance and once he achieved it what need would he have of an old war hound like Harvey? Especially since Harvey would be discharged in disgrace from the King’s Guard; possibly imprisoned for desertion should he ever return to the King’s Hearth. Still, Jim had been right about one thing: a soldier needed a just cause in which to believe in and fight for, and as far as Harvey was concerned, Jim was his.

 

For now, Harvey would remain restrained, but secretly hope that every time his body came into contact with Jim’s that the younger male would notice how their bodies sang and thrummed in recognition down to their bones. At least, that was how it felt for Harvey and he could do little to restrict all physical contact, but he would try for proprieties sake. For several hours they road in relative silence, eventually stopping to rest the horses and catch a small meal of their own. As they sat in the shade of some mahogany and oak trees, Harvey laid back and supported himself up upon one elbow, while Jim sat with his legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles like Harvey’s were, and used both arms straightened to support his upper body. His legs lay parallel to Harvey’s and the two held strict eye contact and slight smiles.

 

“What will you do after?” Harvey asked casually, though his heart was beating like a herd of stampeding horses.

 

“If I live? I don’t know.” Jim searched Harvey’s gaze. “Follow you as a mercenary until we find a settlement to call home.” He shrugged. “What will you do?”

 

Harvey grinned, the action lopsided. “Let you follow me; become a temporary mercenary ‘til we find a settlement we’d like to call home.” He gave a wishful grunt and squinted his eyes a little at Jim. “Even after all of this, you’d still want to stay with me? And don’t give me that horseshit about service; tell me the truth.”

 

“The truth.” Jim huffed and dropped his head back for a few seconds to look at the stretch of branches and leaves of the oak above him. “The truth?” he stated pausing to level his expression at Harvey’s once more. “I would follow you to the judgement of the gods and beyond.” He pursed his lips for a few beats and continued, “Past avenging my settlement? You _are_ my world Harvey. Please don’t send me away.”

 

“I won’t.” Harvey vowed hoping that Jim couldn’t hear how difficult it was to get the words out around the emotion lodged in his throat. “Promise me you won’t leave my side again and we have a bargain.”

 

“I’ll never leave you.” Jim swore feeling the weight of his vow between them. He was confident that Harvey believed him so he began to relax by degrees as the seconds ticked on. He felt the breeze upon his face and smiled slightly. “Do you think they’re far behind the King’s army? That we’ll find them soon?”

 

“From my experience in times of war?” Harvey answered watching Jim bring his hands forward to rest in his lap as he listened. “As I’ve said, they’re an advance scouting party. Their main mission is to relay information about us to the South. The pillaging and destruction of your settlement was likely against orders, but happened because men are greedy bastards.” Harvey picked at some grass before holding Jim’s gaze and addressing him once more. “They wouldn’t have stayed long in the vicinity of the King’s keep. They wouldn’t have wanted to risk being detected; just enough time to survey resources and munitions, record them and send messengers back to the Southern generals.” Harvey shook his head. “They headed east to keep behind the King’s Army, but to scout settlements as well. Yours wasn’t the first to fall and unfortunately; won’t be the last. All you and I can hope for is to find them quickly and put an end to the raids.”

 

Jim cast his gaze down at his lap feeling tears prick his eyes and he quickly blinked them away. Harvey was right; the Doggens’ were out for their own gain and wouldn’t stop until they were defeated. He nodded and looked up at Harvey once more. “Then we find them; take their measure; and leave them dead where they fall.”

 

“Bold words.” Harvey reasoned gently. “Promise me you won’t charge in until we’re prepared to face the bastards head on. Last thing I need is for you to wind up dead and me left holding the only sword against them.”

 

“Then I won’t die. If you won’t.”

 

“I can’t make that promise.” Harvey admitted affectionately. “The gods laugh when men say such things and place death’s hand on their shoulder.”

 

“You’re afraid?” Jim asked surprised.

 

“You _should_ be. We’re two against **thirty**.”

 

Jim frowned. “Fear’s a luxury I don’t have. Not yet; not until they’re facing me.” Even then they both knew that Jim would only experience rage the moment his hands closed around the steel of his sword. How could he not be consumed by it? Harvey pushed himself up to sit, then leaned forward and placed a hand upon Jim’s forearm. He swallowed at how Jim first looked at their physical connection before raising his gaze to his own.

 

“We’ll get there. Faster if we quit talking about it and mount up. There’s still a few hours until sunset that we can make use of.” He patted Jim’s arm. The conversation had been a necessary one and both were better prepared for having it. Jim nodded and placed his opposite hand over Harvey’s.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Don’t thank me yet.” Harvey stated refusing to get choked up by further emotion. His hand was warm beneath Jim’s. “I might come to my senses and leave you to your fight.” He wouldn’t; they both knew this and Jim smiled at him before releasing his hand.

 

A few minutes later the two of them were riding in an eastern direction of the King’s fortress. They veered off the road created by the carts, hooves and boots of the King’s army and headed into the woods. While the trees thickened and branches and leaves blotted out the sky at times, they were never in the dark, as beams of light twisted through the nooks and crannies of the foliage. They walked the horses and soon enough Jim knew that they would have to evaluate if the underbrush would be too thick to ride through and the trees to tightly spaced to allow the horses to pass. Harvey told him that if they went up to the mountains the trees would thicken, but that here the ground was passable by horseback, if not always in the saddle.  By late afternoon Jim saw what Harvey was talking about, as they dismounted and walked a deer trail leading the horses single file. Jim missed being close enough to talk to Harvey, but traveling as they were hoping for stealth, conversation was discouraged. Communication consisted mainly of hand signals and quickly whispered single words; if speech were necessary; yet otherwise they existed silently in the moment.  As the dimness of the forest thickened into shadows and impending dark, the two scouted a place to bed down for the night and attended the horses before their own needs, only risking a small fire due to the presence of wolves in the area. They needed to protect the horses as well as themselves. Harvey sat whittling allowing Jim to tend to the weapons. It didn’t take much effort as they had not used them for battle since they left the army. Jim sat adjacent to Harvey and watched him carefully through his upper peripheral vision.  He wished he could openly stare, but that was a conversation he was not prepared to have with the older male; **ever**.

 

“Say it.” Harvey stated, voice firm but his volume low.

 

Jim paused, sword halfway into its sheath and stared at his companion. “What?”

 

Harvey sighed, put out; as Jim finished sheathing the sword and placing it to lean against Harvey’s saddle.  “No one stares like that unless they have something on their mind.”

 

Jim blushed and was thankful that the firelight hid such things from view. He reached for his own sword and lay it across his lap.  He caught a flash of tooled leather on the sheath and inwardly felt relief wash over him.  “Have you ever seen a crest like this before?” He pointed to it upon the top of the sheath before holding out the sword to Harvey.

 

Harvey put down his whittling and took the proffered sword. He squinted at the carved crest and even rotated it a little in the firelight. At first Jim wondered if he were making a show of looking at it, then realized he wasn’t being cruel; but truly attempting to place the crest.  “Well, it’s that of a named man.” When Jim stared at him without recognition Harvey continued. “A man from a noble family that owns land, has a name for themselves that’s recognized at court. It’s probably from an older one, look here.” He held the sword a little towards Jim and pointed to one quarter of the crest. “You don’t see symbols like this, placed with lions unless it’s a powerful family. I’ve only seen it a couple of times, eagles for the King, stags for another family.” Harvey shook his head. “But the rest? I don’t recognize it. I’m sorry, Jim.” He handed the sword back to the younger male and picked up his whittling once more. “Where did you find that scabbard anyway?”

 

“Father Ricktius the last time I saw him. He said it was my father’s.”

 

Dumbfounded Harvey gaped at Jim. “Your _father_? Why did he have your father’s sword? Never mind that, how come you were a ward of the church if your kin are named men?”

 

“Because I’m a bastard?” Jim guessed shaking his head. “I don’t remember my family, all the memories I have from boyhood all center around the church and Father Ricktius. But my father must have given this to him for safe keeping for me until I came of age. Father Ricktius knew he should have given it to me before but, “Jim faltered recalling the dying man and how in the end his concern had been for Jim and not the gods’ treasures. “he wanted me to be a minister of the church, or a blacksmith; not a soldier.”

 

“Smart man.” Harvey praised of Jim’s previous protector. “I’m sorry you got your wish in the way you did, but once we’ve killed the murderous Doggens bastards, consider being a blacksmith? I may need a new sword after this.”

 

Jim couldn’t help but smile and offer a little chuckle. “I’ll make you the finest, but then it’s back to soldiering for me.” He reached out and patted Harvey’s shoulder.

 

“I was afraid you were going to say that.” reluctantly Jim let his shoulder go. “Did the good father Ricktius tell you your father’s name?”

 

Jim shook his head. “What would it matter? He didn’t want me so he gave me a life with the Brothers. A fair trade when he could have killed me straight out of the womb.”

 

Harvey grunted. Children were always a possibility when you had sex with a woman. His perception was if you didn’t want to risk having babies you should fuck men or your hand. He had heard horror stories from women regarding unwanted children by noble men out of wedlock. He had always promised himself that if he ever had a child he would never dash its head out on flagstones or leave it for the wolves; he would instead claim it and give it the Bullock name like a responsible adult. Then again, he wasn’t a noble man who owned lands and had a wife that expected discretion at all times in front of court.

 

“What?” Jim demanded.

 

Harvey frowned. “Hum?”

 

Jim smirked narrowing his eyes at Harvey. “No one makes sounds like that unless they have something on their mind.” Harvey frowned and leveled his own gaze; the younger male was too smart for his own good.

 

“You impregnate a woman, you stand by the child. I’ve always believed that, no matter how complicated life is. I know it’s idealistic but it was the way I was raised. Name your children or keep your cock from underneath a woman’s skirts.”

 

Jim grinned. “That’s a bit old fashioned.”

 

“Would Father Ricktius say the same?” Harvey challenged spitefully.

 

Jim’s smile fell a little. “Yes, it’s what he taught me. Then again, I have no name to give my children.” He added quickly. “If I’m to have any.”

 

Harvey sighed the venom leaving him instantly. “That’s the one advantage I can give my children; should I have any; but it’s a bit late now for me to be a father don’t you think?”  Jim shook his head. “And if you say you wish I was your father,” Harvey warned pointing an accusing finger at Jim. “I’ll put your pretty face in the fire.”

 

Jim laughed. “I would _never_ say that.” he teased gently. “I like our relationship the way it is.”

 

“I the master and you my indentured servant?” Harvey teased in return.

 

“Something like that.” Jim stated worrying abruptly if too much truth was shining behind his eyes. He felt his chest tighten in longing.

 

“Well then, there’s only one thing left to do. I’ll take first watch and you, will sleep. Can’t fight the enemy if we can’t keep our eyes open.”

 

Jim agreed and reluctantly they bedded down for the night. It took him a few minutes to fall asleep but he finally stopped checking where Harvey was around him and closed his eyes. It had been a tiring day and was glad that it was over. For now, he could sleep.  Harvey had volunteered for first watch because he knew he had a better chance of staying awake now than he would later. Jim was younger and with that came the ability to go without sleep longer than someone older. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, merely fact. When he was younger he had held the second watch and hated it, but only because he was vigilant and didn’t want anyone’s throats slit because he was not working his post.  This way he could watch over Jim and make certain they were safe, yet later when his energy flagged he could place his full trust in Jim. The younger male might be inexperienced but he did everything he was asked too with such hyper care and devotion that Harvey couldn’t help but to trust him implicitly.  He wished he could have told Jim more about the crest, but he wasn’t very apt at remembering all the family names and crests. He had been too busy nursing hangovers and lovers during such schooling in the army. He had been much too distracted with the pursuits of war that any young man fancied when they didn’t know their assholes from a hole in the ground. He had been as impetuous as anyone and he had learned his lesson. Now he just merely wished he had applied himself more in learning the families of the territories. Even if the players changed the sigils remained the same.

 

Jim was dreaming about sword practice with Harvey when abruptly he felt a hard shake on his shoulder. He woke up instantly and sat up fast, dizziness flaring as he blinked his eyes to clear them of the last dredges of sleep. “What?” he whispered concern zinging up his spine.

 

“It’s your watch.” Harvey informed face exceedingly close to his own. Jim could feel his breath and wet his lips, swallowing at the desire that flooded him. His eyes looked from Harvey’s mouth to his eyes and Harvey’s lips parted, and he looked at Jim’s mouth, or perhaps his throat before locking gazes with him.

 

“Go on. I’m tired.” He said a little breathlessly and Jim nodded, dumbly scrambling to his feet so that Harvey could lay in the blankets he had warmed for him. Jim shivered a little but he knew it wasn’t from the abrupt chill of the late night, and he looked around for his sword. He quickly put it on his back and moved away from the fire and Harvey’s prone form. He looked back at the man periodically wondering if he should ever mention the exchange; burning too, but thinking better of it the longer he was awake inside of his own mind.  It had clearly been in his own imagination.

 

Jim moved through the trees a little away from their encampment, past the horses which he pet in turn to reassure them of his presence. He listened to the crickets and owls, the other rustlings of nocturnal beings and stood his ground, orienting himself to the darkness. He moved through the trees and circled their camp, stopping and listening, looking and identifying noises and shadows. His teeth felt on edge and he heard a shuffling and looked in the direction of the sound. He moved forward and carefully placed each step before the other as silently as possible. He stopped when he heard another movement and raised a hand to the hilt of his sword before a low, menacing growl stopped him cold.

 

Wolf.

 

Jim’s hand closed around the pummel and he stared at the shape that moved slightly upon its feet, yet stood its ground as the growl intensified. Jim heard another rustling to his right and shifted his gaze in that direction. Another hunkered shape and chest originated growl.  Jim’s heart beat sped up but he outwardly remained still, save for slowly unsheathing his sword. The growls intensified and Jim placed more of his weight on his back foot, bringing the sword to level with his opponents. In the old language that the gods once used, and the Brothers had taught Jim; he invoked the god of beasts and stated that he was not seeking to inflict harm upon this night. The wolves continued to growl but shifted in their stances, the one to his left moving a tentative step closer, the one on his right moving sideways in the direction of his back.

 

The old language wasn’t working so Jim drew his war ax from his belt and held it in his opposite hand. He then began his own growl low in his chest, rose his voice with it until it spouted out of his throat. He began to beat the battle ax against his sword blade and rose a din of steel upon steel. He screamed and started at the wolf directly before him, it ran back a few feet in fear and Jim turned abruptly upon the second wolf, advancing on it with loud clanging and shouting. The beast yelped and side stepped him, running off into the darkness away from the camp, the second wolf following it. Jim trudged after them, clanging and screaming until he fell abruptly silent and listened. He heard a howl in the distance, a nearer one but still far enough from the camp and the horses that he relaxed slightly.  His heart beat was racing and he lowered the ax yet kept his sword raised, breath huffing rapidly.

 

“By the gods!” Harvey shouted at Jim as he shoved one of their horses’ backside out of his way. He burst into the grouping of trees Jim stood in, hands on hips. Even in the darkness Jim could feel the annoyance of Harvey’s expression and weight of his gaze.  “What _are_ you doing, besides losing what little sense you have left?”

 

“Wolves.” Jim stated voice gravely from shouting and ears ringing with the relative silence of the night around them. The creatures seemed muted and Harvey’s voice coming from just before him.  “There were two of them and I, I scared them away.”

 

“Are you **trying** to get yourself killed before you can have your vengeance?” Harvey demanded irate and exhausted.  “You don’t go up against two wolves alone! That’s suicide!”

 

“Apparently not.” Jim reasoned motioning towards the darkness where the wolves vanished to with his sword.

 

Disgusted, Harvey motioned to him. “Get to the fire! I go on watch half the night and nothing happens. You barely step out of the light and nearly get eaten by wolves!”

 

“I didn’t go looking for trouble.” Jim insisted with a slight whine to his tone. “I was just walking the perimeter and they were there.”

 

Harvey seized Jim by the arm and started to drag him back in the direction of their camp. He realized that Jim might be a little in shock at the close call he had just had, so rather than draw attention to the issue Harvey elected to soothe him instead.  “Come on, wolf king.” He said gruffly but with a lit of praise to his voice. “Enough watch for you right now. If the Doggens were nearby we’ll be knee deep in their corpses by sunrise.”

 

As they walked Jim returned his sword to its scabbard and the battle ax to his belt.  “It’s not my fault.” Jim reiterated and Harvey shook his head.

 

“I know. But you could have been seriously injured if not killed and then where would we be?” Jim grunted giving concession that Harvey had a point and they passed the horses into the camp.  Harvey directed Jim to the fire and pushed him to sit down, grabbing his war ax out of his belt with one hand, then placed the war ax down against one of the saddles. Once Jim was seated he used the other hand to pet Jim’s head a few times with earnest affection. “Just keep this on your shoulders and you’ll be fine.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Jim repeated once Harvey was seated next to him. Their eyes met in the firelight.

 

The fear and annoyance fell from Harvey’s features and he reached out and placed a hand upon Jim’s; if he touched him anywhere else but the face he wouldn’t be able to feel it beneath his leathers.  “Fighting beasts isn’t the same as fighting men. They go for your throat, your spine; incapacitate you with one pass of their claws. Their teeth get in you and they don’t let go, and even if they do? You don’t survive long enough to get your revenge.” He squeezed Jim’s hand. “I worry about you, Jim. I’m trying to keep you alive and you’re tempting the gods of fate daily. You’re making my job all that harder.”

 

“Your _job_?” Jim challenged slightly offended. “Harvey, your _job_ isn’t to protect me.”

 

“You’re my sword barer. It **is**. By all rights of honor, we’re **bound** , and part of that is keeping you alive so I can train you.” Jim looked down at the fire and Harvey tilted his head slightly in wonder. “Did you forget that? Think that because you’ve fought in some battles and joined the King’s army that my vow to you no longer stands?”

 

“I, I did. And I’m sorry Harvey. I won’t forget again.”

 

Harvey withdrew his hand and Jim clearly saw the pain etched upon his features. “Going to war will preoccupy a man.” Harvey permitted shutting down the hurt in his gaze. He nodded and reached for another bit of wood to place upon the fire. He then smiled. “I’m going to sleep. Wake me at sunrise, will you? And stay close; no more beasts tonight, yeah?”

 

Jim nodded in agreement and watched Harvey move to take his place upon his bedroll and felt guilt wash over him. He didn’t like inflicting emotional pain on others and he was going to have to make it up to his sword master; somehow.  Fortunately, the next few hours of his watch passed without event and afforded him time think about solutions to his problem.

 

They saddled up just about an hour after the sun rose and made their way down into the valley. The trees grew denser up the mountain side, but there was a trail they were following that lead past the mountain without climbing up and over it. If the Doggens went anywhere it was to the settlements on the opposite side of the valley. If they didn’t find them, they would determine if the contingent headed further east, or had somehow bypassed them and were closer to the King’s army than Harvey had first believed. By midafternoon, Harvey’s horse showed signs of limping and he dismounted and checked its hooves for injury and horseshoes for debris. Upon cleaning out the likely candidate for pain, both men decided to rest the horses for a few hours and have lunch and rest themselves. After being in the saddle so long Jim was thankful to be able to move around freely and stretch his muscles. He and Harvey sparred a little and Jim felt his blood heat up and desire rise a few levels at the physical exertion. He still wanted the older man, wondered if he would ever consider the same; then promptly talked himself out of deciding either way at the last minute; his heartbeat pounding in his chest, stomach churning with nervousness.

 

They circled one another, striking and defending each step of ground. It was exhilarating and Jim felt himself perspiring from the exertion, but warmed by the heat of lust. Memories of fantasies began to spark and Jim recalled the moment in the firelight the previous night. Jim couldn’t quite get the look in Harvey’s eyes out of his mind. The perceived gentleness haunted him but he had chided himself to drop the issue and concentrate upon his battle skills. Failing, he ended up upon the ground in a heap, Harvey’s triumphant chuckling burning in his ears.

 

“This is what you’ve learned? How to lay ass first in the dirt nursing a hangover instead of holding your ground? Oh Jim, I’ve been teaching you the wrong techniques!” He reached down to help Jim up and they clapped arms, hands just at the inside of one another’s elbows. “I should be ashamed.”

 

“You should.” Jim teased deadpan in response not even bothering to dust off his leathers.

 

Perhaps Jim stumbled, or maybe; just maybe Harvey pulled him too hard; whatever the case Jim lurched forward and he fell against Harvey, and was slowly pushing himself back up when their eyes locked and a reprise of the previous night consumed them. Jim looked from Harvey’s eyes to his lips, and Harvey looked from Jim’s lips to his eyes; it was Jim who moved first, surging forward to capture Harvey’s mouth with his own. Jim did everything like he trained; with tenacity, devotion, seriousness and passion. Harvey couldn’t even catch his breath before he was opening his mouth to the younger male’s. Jim moaned into the kiss and deepened it, tossing his sword away from them to the ground, hands cradling Harvey’s cheeks. Harvey released a surprised sound and tossed his own sword down and away, grabbing Jim to embrace him and pull him ever closer.

 

Harvey broke the kiss first, embracing Jim and pressing his nose first against the younger male’s neck before resting his chin upon his shoulder and just holding him. Harvey closed his eyes and prayed to any gods that happened to be listening to spare his soul damnation and forgive Jim for his ignorance. After several seconds of being hugged and not kissed or touched any longer, Jim abruptly realized something was wrong and asked, “Harvey? What is it?”

 

“Nothing.” Harvey informed pulling back to look into Jim’s large, blue eyes. He touched the younger male’s cheek and ran his thumb up the cheekbone, touch gentle and expression tender. “We can’t do this.” Confusion ignited across Jim’s features. “I made a vow to be your sword master,”

 

“I don’t _care_!” Jim reasoned desperately, completely blindsided by Harvey’s words. “Fine, I’m no longer your sword barer. We’re just men in the King’s Guard. We’ll work the rest out just,” Jim leaned forward to press his lips against Harvey’s and the older man’s free hand pressed hard against his chest to stay his movement.

 

“It’s not something to be bandied around like it doesn’t matter Jim. The vow to protect one another; to learn and teach both is sacred.”

 

“Because it’s tradition; official ceremony. But we never made a public declaration Harvey. We just swore to one another in private and that means we can sever or re-pledge to one another as many times as we need. Please, Harvey.” Jim begged grabbing the hand upon his face and clutching it to his chest, his opposite hand he placed over Harvey’s hand already resting there. “We can make our own rules,”

 

“That’s not something I can live with.” Harvey stated in despair. “Tradition and ceremony **mean** something to me. Vows _matter_ ; whether they are for marriage or in some other official capacity I take them seriously. The fact that you can just casually toss them to the wayside like this saddens me.”

 

“Wait,” Jim reasoned tightening his grip. “I take vows very seriously Harvey. But this is different. I want you; _need_ you and I’m trying to do whatever is necessary for you to agree to be with me. I’ve lost everything, and the one person I have left; that I truly care about and love, is you. How can it be cavalier that I would release you from your oath so that we can be together? There’s no law that states that a sword master can’t be in a relationship with his sword barer. You’ve seen it a million times most likely; it’s not wrong- “

 

“It **is** , Jim. To take advantage of someone because of a power and class difference is abhorrent. Don’t you see that? It’s exactly what I’m saying. Your desire for me is _because_ you lost your home and family. It’s only there _because_ I’m the only person you have left. It’s hero worship Jim, not love. I can promise you that in a few weeks you won’t feel the same as you do right now.”

 

Horrified, Jim clenched at Harvey’s leathers with his hands. It was difficult to get purchase but he tried too, as Harvey’s hands fell to his sides. “You’re right, I won’t feel the same as I do now. I’ll be even **more** in love with you.” Jim’s gaze misted and he pushed Harvey back a little before pulling him forward once more. “I’m not a child, Harvey. I know the difference between hero worship and love. I’ve been waiting my entire life to find you. I recognized you the first day that I laid eyes upon you. You were fighting in the training ring. Everything inside of me twisted and burst with desire. Then I got to know you and my affections only deepened. I never said anything until now because I was looking for glimpses that you might feel the same. The last thing I wanted to do was declare my heart and be told that you couldn’t be my sword barer or friend anymore because I was the only one that felt love.” Jim paused and shook his head. “You’re a good man Harvey Bullock. I’m not at your side anymore just so I can pine for you and be taught the art of battle. I’m with you because it’s the only place I want to be.”

 

Harvey smiled tenderly and placed his hands over Jim’s wrists and slowly pried Jim’s fingers off him. “Jim,”

 

“Don’t!” Jim pleaded. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel something for me.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then why are you fighting what we are together? Why are you throwing vows and traditions in my face when we could be laying together right now?”

 

“Gods Jim, you are- “Harvey fell silent and yanked his hands away, stepping back from Jim a small distance. “The rules, I mean tradition states; you can’t just do whatever the fuck it is that you _want_ to do!”

 

“Why not?” Jim demanded shaking his head.

 

Harvey sputtered for an answer and a beat later finally yelled, “Because that’s not what people do!”

 

“We only have one lifetime Harvey. Don’t you want to spend it with me?”

 

“Of _course,_ I do, Jim. But we can’t just throw our mission, the King’s war or tradition to the dung heap just because we have our blood up!”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Harvey, I’ve never,” Jim faltered for several seconds and crimson colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears slowly creeping over his skin. “I’ve never been with anyone because I’ve never known anyone that I wanted to be with before you. I’ve been waiting for you, **you** ; not just someone I’m attracted too. Because I’ve liked others before, but I never loved them. You’re the only one. Can’t you understand? I’m not just doing this to know what sex is like; I want you because you’re the one I was promised by the gods.”

 

Harvey felt his resolve slipping. How could he deny Jim or himself something so fundamental? What if Jim was right? What if they were the same half of a heart the gods cleaved into only to have them journey find one another? Harvey ran a hand back through his red hair and took a large breath, eyes riveted to Jim’s.

 

“Are you certain, Jim? That I’m your other half?”

 

Jim smiled tenderly. “Why? Aren’t you?”

 

Harvey wasn’t certain how to answer that, the ache for Jim too great to bear any longer. He nodded instead and closed the distance between himself and Jim.  “Come here.” He reached out for Jim and brought him close, one hand on the back of Jim’s head the other arm wrapped around him. He was happy that Jim encircled his arms around him and pressed his face against his chest. Harvey kissed Jim’s temple a couple of times and muttered, “Help me off with my leathers?” before Jim looked up and kissed him deeply. They stood there for several minutes kissing, drinking one another in until they were breathless and longing to touch one another without their light armor on.

 

The two helped one another undress, leathers cast aside and shirts quickly following. Jim completely stripped down to his skin while Harvey’s trousers were still on temporarily. He couldn’t feast his eyes enough upon the expanse of Jim’s pale and gold dusted skin. He was beautiful; truly a wonder of the gods and for some reason that Harvey couldn’t fathom; the gods wanted him to have Jim as his love. He was not a man to argue with deities and instead began to gently worship at the church of Jim’s body.  He explored Jim’s virtually unscarred chest, suckling on his nipples and causing the younger male to arch his back and moan wantonly. While the horses grazed not too far away from them, Harvey first encircled a calloused sword hand around Jim’s weeping cock.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Jim.” Harvey ghosted Jim’s neck with his breath before caressing the sensitive flesh with his lips and tongue. “So perfect.”

 

Jim made an unintelligible sound and squeezed his legs around Harvey’s hips and scratched at his back with his fingers.  “Claim me.” Jim breathed gasping for air, lightheaded with the sensations completely consuming his body. “I need you to take me; to make me whole.”

 

Harvey raised his head and kissed Jim deeply, stroking his cock gently and lazily to build Jim into such a frenzy that when he fingered him Jim wouldn’t be thinking about the foreign sensation or any perceived pain.  “Let me make you come first; that’ll help.”

 

“No.” Jim pleaded locking gazes with Harvey and tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck with clenched fingers. “There’s an oil in my saddle bag. Let me get it and you can take me.”

 

“I’ll get it.” Harvey offered glancing at where the horse tack and their belongings were settled beside a tree trunk. “I’m closer.”

 

“It’s the orange bottle with the black cork.” Jim directed breathlessly, not wishing to let Harvey go just yet but knowing it was necessary. Reluctantly he released his secure hold and watched as Harvey rose and walked to the saddle bags in question. He squatted before them and dug through Jim’s grunting triumphantly upon locating the mentioned bottle. He uncorked it and was surprised by the mint scent of it, corking it once more he rose and returned to where Jim was laying, anxious for him to touch him.

 

Instinctively Jim spread his legs and watched impatiently as Harvey dribbled some of the oil over the fingers of his left hand. He then slotted himself low between Jim’s legs and kissed across the younger male’s pelvic line. Slowly he lowered his mouth to Jim’s cock, simultaneously seeking out his hole with a slick finger. Jim keened at the pressure placed at his entrance, legs reflexively spreading wider, and he dug his heels into the ground raising his hips off the ground a little. Harvey took full advantage of the offering and soon he was sucking, rubbing and pistoning in and over Jim and out and off once more. He added a second finger as his actions intensified and Jim opened easily to him, breath heaving and his moans encouraging Harvey to quicken his pace. Soon enough his throat and mouth was filled with Jim’s cock, as Jim was rocking in a counter thrust to Harvey’s three fingers buried inside of him. He clawed at Harvey and begged, pleading with Harvey to stop the bliss of torture and take him. Unable to deny him, Harvey released his hold upon Jim’s cock and withdrew his fingers. He instructed Jim breathlessly to roll over onto all fours. Once he was in position Harvey tugged his hips up and back, pushing Jim to rest upon his elbows, right hand firmly placed betwixt Jim’s shoulder blades.

 

Harvey quickly groped for the oil bottle and applied more to his left hand, this time just the palm as he slicked up his cock and capped the bottle once more. Within seconds his cock was aligned with Jim’s opening and he slowly pushed inside an inch. Jim gasped tensing up and Harvey gently rubbed the small of his back with his right hand.

 

“It’s alright Jim.” He soothed. “Easy; just breathe with me. Breathe and your body will open. Trust me.” Jim did; trusted the older man implicitly and listened to direction. It wasn’t that he was afraid, it was just that the girth of Harvey was unexpected even though he had been easily taking three of Harvey’s fingers just minutes before. Relaxing, Jim felt Harvey push further inside of him. He closed his eyes and his mouth fell open with a gasp.  “By the gods you feel as though you were made for me to breach you. You truly are _perfect_.”

 

Jim’s hands clenched into fists and he rocked back against Harvey, encouraging him to continue his forward slide until after a few minutes his cock was fully seated within Jim. Jim moaned and panted to catch his breath, head dropping forward as he found the ability to speak and beg Harvey once more. “Take me; claim me as your own.”

 

Who was Harvey to deny him? Harvey began to thrust slowly in and out of Jim’s tight channel and gripped his hips with the warmth of his hands, fingers digging into flesh, spread upon his pelvis. One hand was still glistening with oil while the opposite was dry and warm. The once faint scent of mint was far stronger now and Harvey continued to fuck into Jim, pulling the younger male’s hips towards him with every thrust. Jim rocked with him, gripping the soil of the ground beneath him. He begged, pleaded with Harvey to never stop as his body was consumed with sensory overload. If this was how sex was going to be he never wanted to stop. He would always lay himself bare for Harvey to feast on at any given moment. Jim was profoundly moved by the sense of belonging to Harvey; of loving only him and sharing his body with him for the rest of their lives.

 

Once more Jim could understand how people could believe in the gods; why Harvey must if everyone he ever touched felt this good underneath his steady hands and care. Jim wet his lips and gasped, resting his forehead upon his forearms for a few thrusts before raising his head once more. “Harvey.” Jim groaned longingly. “I want to come for you now. Please; help me.”

 

Harvey dropped his left hand from Jim’s hip and reached around him to grasp his cock firmly in his hand. “Shh.” He soothed leaning over Jim to kiss his back and began to firmly stroke his length. Harvey straightened his form and continued thrusting. “I’ve got you, Jim.” And he did; within seconds Jim was shuddering over into the abyss of sexual gratification head first. He tensed around Harvey’s sizable cock, locking it in place as he came. Jim’s entire body shivered and spasmed until his back bowed inward, limbs pliant and strength spent as he experienced an intensity to his orgasm that he had never before known. Never again would his own hand give him satisfaction; only Harvey’s would ever bring him to the precipice like this.

 

Harvey pulled Jim up to his knees and held him securely against his chest as he continued to fuck him from behind. Jim’s head lulled back upon Harvey’s right shoulder and he reached back with his left hand to close it around the hair at the nape of Harvey’s neck. His heart was racing, his soul singing in his ears and Jim closed his eyes, but tears fell anyway. “So perfect. All mine.” Harvey panted into his ear, right hand stroking up the length of Jim’s throat to his jaw line. Jim couldn’t agree more and he huffed a soft sound of acceptance. His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at Harvey briefly before his mouth was captured by the older man’s once again. Jim kissed Harvey like their lives depended on it and Harvey returned the intensity in kind. After a few minutes of kissing and more thrusting from Harvey he felt his own orgasm building. He wrapped his arms around Jim’s lower torso and uttered that he was close, Jim was about to question what he was talking about when Harvey bit hard into Jim’s right shoulder at the juncture of his throat and spilled his seed deep inside of Jim. Jim moaned at the sensation and began stroking Harvey’s hair, kissing the side of his face and seeking his mouth with his own.

 

They began kissing again and slowly Harvey disengaged, turning Jim around gently as he brought them both back to the ground. Once settled they continued kissing until their heart rates slowed and they came back to the moment from the panicle of orgasm. Jim rested his head upon Harvey’s chest and embraced him, their legs tangled and he all but purred in satisfaction. Harvey held him close and stroked his back, loving the feel of Jim’s hand upon his chest casually stroking with feather light touches and the occasional full palm did the same.

 

“It’s never been like that before.” Harvey admitted into their comfortable silence.

 

“It won’t ever be like that with anyone else.” Jim mused rubbing his cheek against Harvey’s breast plate. “We’re heart mates.”

 

Harvey smiled, moved by the sound of that and he stroked Jim’s hair tenderly, and paused to place a kiss upon his forehead before he answered, “We are.” Internally Harvey thanked all the gods for making Jim his other half; how he had gotten so lucky he couldn’t say, nor wished to tempt fate to change the gods’ minds.  “How badly do you want to be a solider now?”

 

Jim tightened his embrace and rubbed his cheek once more against Harvey. “Ask me once I’ve had my revenge. Maybe I would be happy as a blacksmith; if I had a man like you to come home to each evening.”

 

“Think I’ll be the one to keep the hearth warm, do you?”

 

Jim couldn’t help but smirk at the challenge in Harvey’s tone. “What else would you do?”

 

Harvey kissed the top of Jim’s head before laying his head back down on a bent arm. “I could learn a trade. Own a shop or even, say; become a Brother of the church.”

 

Jim grunted. “If you were a Brother you wouldn’t be able to have me.” He looked up at Harvey. “I think you’d better rethink that possibility.”

 

Harvey laughed. “A trade or shop keep then. Maybe I’ll become a blacksmith.”

 

Jim grinned. “I’d like that. But if you didn’t, maybe a stable man. Horses seem to take to you instantly.”

 

Harvey sighed longingly. “It’s but a gift.” He teased of Jim’s humor. “Whatever I become, as long as we come home to one another I’ll be a happy man.”

 

Jim closed his eyes and began imagining a life for the two of them, secure in the knowledge that Harvey was doing the same as he held him. They lay together in compatible silence for the next half hour before they rose and dressed once more. After a quick meal, the horses were rested enough to saddle, and the two walked them instead of ridding for the rest of the afternoon. As evening crept into the sky the two sought a place to camp and while Jim searched for water nearby, Harvey acquired wood for a small fire. He then used a hunting bow to bring two rabbits for dinner and they ate bits of dried apple for dessert. They said little to one another, but Jim leaned close to Harvey as they ate, the older man smiling at him affectionately in return.  After dinner Jim finished attending to the horses while Harvey did a perimeter search in the woods around the camp. When he returned he kicked dirt onto the fire to smother it and motioned for Jim to be silent. He then led him up the ridge line down towards a creek edge; there in the slope of the basin was an encampment, and Jim instantly recognized the sigil painted upon the war shields: Doggens.

 

Harvey looked at Jim, his expression purposeful and they watched the camp for long minutes memorizing movements and calculating numbers. Before an hour was up they slunk back to their own camp and buried the fire further, gathered their gear and lead their horses further away; just west of the encampment where the scouting party most likely wouldn’t go until either the next day or at all. When they were a safe distance and settled once more, Jim crouched next to Harvey who was sharpening his dagger and short blade.

 

“It’s them. Their commander has a long scar down his face.” Jim stated low and angry. “I recognize him well enough.” Harvey just nodded once and said nothing. Jim waited a few minutes and edged, “We need a plan.”

 

“We have one.” Harvey informed but continued sharpening his blade in silence. After several seconds, he held the whet stone out to Jim. “Deep in the night, silent assassins around the outskirts of the camp. Slit throats here; there; means less men for us to fight in the day light. The trick of it is to cut as many as possible without getting caught.”

 

Jim took the proffered whet stone and reached for his own dagger. “What happens if they find a corpse before sunrise?”

 

“Then we fight them in the dark. We should choose the battle ground carefully. A choke point would be optimal but those that beg can’t bay at the offerings.”

 

Jim’s lips pursed. “We need to find out when the centuries change.”

 

“Basic advance scouts, average 20 or so men; at least six grunts and give or take the odd one or two that pissed off a superior? A four-hour rotation per watch.”

 

“Is that what you do?” Jim asked curiously.

 

Harvey grinned in the moon dim night. “Calvary doesn’t stand pickets.”

 

Jim smiled back. “When can we start slitting throats?”

 

“In a couple of hours; when they take to their bed rolls. Sharpen your weapons and then we’ll go watch them, darken our faces and take some of your vengeance.”

 

Jim liked that idea.

 

In the end, they scouted some battle ground in the basin and found there was little protection to be offered. If men were discovered dead before morning; which was a large probability, the two would either need to be miles away when that happened, or stand against the remaining men all at once. Either prospect was not what Jim had in mind, but Harvey pointed out that corpses were no better than a turd with a sword against an army. Jim agreed in turn, and reluctantly surrendered to a passed opportunity and whispered to Harvey that they should just follow the scouts until they found a better place to coordinate an attack. As impatient as he was to reap vengeance Harvey was right; if they were killed outright then the mission achieved nothing.  Harvey was just as morose about the turn of events as Jim was, yet he too surrendered and they spent half the night watching the camp the other sleeping nearby. When the men stirred before sunrise they watched and waited as the scouts gathered their belongings and moved ever Eastward, Jim and Harvey following at a safe distance behind.

 

In the flatter lands Harvey and Jim could see settlements in the distance that the Doggens’ contingent was drawing closer too. By the next morning they should arrive at the first, and Jim knew from his own experience that it would be destroyed. Thusly that evening Harvey rode around the side of the encampment and towards the township to see if there was a choke point for a kill zone, and failing that he would warn the men of the town that the Doggens were on the horizon. In his absence Jim would keep watch over the Doggens soldiers for intelligence purposes. In the back of Harvey’s mind, he considered that perhaps leaving Jim alone was not the wisest course of action, however Harvey had many years of battle experience on the younger male and would be able to tell at a relative glance if there was good ground for fighting upon. In addition, as an official King’s Calvary officer he held more clout with the local leaders. Jim would be viewed as an alarmist and nuisance just as he had in his very own settlement, and time was of the essence.

 

By the time the sun had set and the cooking fires became gambling and gossiping exchanges, Jim was crouched seething with bloodlust. His heart was pounding in his ears as he snuck ever closer to the encampment fringe and sought out sleeping or distantly placed army men.  At the edge of the tree line he stumbled across two infantry men locked in a heated frenzy of kissing. Jim put his dagger away temporarily and grabbed his Sai’s, stabbing both men through the jugulars at the same instant. He felt his own blood rush in his ears as the two groped for him, tried to call out but were savagely stopped by a quick finishing slash across their bare throats. His skin felt heated, his anger rising unbidden as he took one of the dead men’s infantry uniform coats with the Doggens sigil stitched into it upon the chest and back, silently picking his way into the camp. He hid more than he moved forward for long minutes, muscles vibrating with blood thirsty desire.

 

After a time, he reached the first of the tents the men were settling in to sleep. The first tent he cut a seam down the middle of the back of the canvas to create his own entrance. He struck quickly by covering the man’s mouth and slitting his throat quick and lethal before moving to the next man. He learned that most tents would be double occupancy so he stabbed his Sai’s into each side of one man’s throat before spinning on the other male to silence him with his dagger.  Jim wasn’t certain how many tents he hit, but as the chaos of gambling and talk of sexual conquests grew louder and more men moved freely through the temporary tent city, he realized he should withdraw back into the forest.

 

He struggled to keep himself low, slow, and unseen when his instinct demanded that he run. Fleeing the camp would only draw attention to himself if a passing picket happened to see him. It was far better to sneak away and when he reached the tree line he was damp with perspiration and blood. He slid up onto the saddle of his horse and rode in the direction Harvey had left hours earlier, before his presence could be detected by the Doggens’ battle camp.  He had ridden for several moments placing some distance between himself and the camp before he urged his mount forward at a soft run. While he knew it was dangerous to do so he needed to find Harvey for the Doggens would send out scouting guards to locate the North men that had slain their comrades.

 

The moon was well past its apex when Jim pulled his horse up short and listened. He heard distant screaming and figured it was the Doggens giving the order to mount up and search the outlaying land.  He spurred his horse on a bit faster and reached the settlement, noting that there was a century at the main road entrance. A couple of arrows impaled the ground near him and he stopped his mount.

 

“State your purpose!” The single man demanded as the two archers joined him blocking the road.

 

“I’m King’s Guard Calvary!” Jim responded petting his horse’s neck to calm it as it moved upon it’s hooves redistributing its weight.

 

“Yeah? And what Calvary insignia is that you’re wearing eh?”

 

Jim glanced down abruptly remembering that he was wearing a Doggens’ uniform coat.  “I was spying on the Southern enemy’s camp!”

 

“Aim for the chest and head lads!” The man decided in direction, and the bows were about to let arrows fly when Harvey’s voice shattered the tension of the night between the guards and Jim.

 

“Hold your fire! This idiot is mine!” Once the bows lowered, Jim rode forward and Harvey grabbed the reins when he stopped before him. “What the hell are you doing, Jim? Wolves weren’t dangerous enough for you? You had to go and rile up the settlement militia?”

 

Jim grinned down at Harvey. “Good to see you too.” He slid from the saddle and another man arrived holding a torch that revealed Jim’s appropriated coat and the fact that he was coated in dark blood.  “There’s a few less soldiers to worry about now.”

 

Harvey growled in annoyance. “Yeah? And tell me, is the rest on their way here now?”

 

Jim’s grin vanished. “Maybe.”

 

Harvey hit him in the chest once, the blow shoving him back slightly upon his feet. “Before kicking the wasps’ nest did it occur to you to wait until I came back to tell you how many militia this village has?” Jim swallowed. “No! Of _course_ not!” Harvey groaned and shook his head. “By the gods’ Jim, did they bless your birth by neglecting to grant you any common sense? There’s eight men, half of which have never even seen a battle line. How well do you think they’ll fair with us against a contingent of seasoned soldiers?” Harvey demanded making a grand gesture with his palms.

 

“Harvey,”

 

“No!” Harvey snapped pointing at Jim. “I don’t want to hear a word from you.” Harvey turned to address a couple of men that approached now that he was finished disciplining Jim.  “Elder Watters, the evacuation plans need to be carried out tonight. The quicker the better. Instruct your people to take only bare necessities; food, clothing, valuable work tools and coin.”

 

“Commander Bullock, it’s half past till dawn. You said we’d have- “

 

“I’m well aware of what I _said_ , Elder Watters” Harvey interrupted authoritatively. “Circumstances have changed. Get the people out and get them out now. Take them up the mountain where only they know the goat trails. That’ll give us time to slow the advance down so that you can get the people to safety.”

 

Elder Watters seemed to abruptly comprehend the urgency of the situation and turned to the priest standing alongside of him. “Father Mills. Please, have the Brothers pack up. I’ll have the other Elders attend to the people. May the gods have mercy upon us.”

 

Harvey doubted that they would; if they even took time to care for a single village in the scheme of things. For if they did, he would hope that rescue would have come for Jim’s settlement. Harvey turned, facing Jim and he grabbed a handful of the Doggens’ coat lapel and drug Jim away from the small gathering and the torch lights. Once out of ear shot of the others he threw his arms around Jim and hugged him, arms ridged and hands holding his head against his own throat.

 

“Jim, you foolish, **stupid** , bastard.”

 

Jim swallowed emotion lodged in his throat, and embraced Harvey in return. “I thought I was your ‘ _beautiful idiot’_.”

 

Harvey placed a tender kiss upon Jim’s forehead. “You **are** that.” He whispered tightening his embrace until Jim was having difficulty breathing. “I know you want vengeance but smart tactics go a long way to keeping you alive for revenge.”

 

“I’m sorry Harvey. I couldn’t just stay there watching them without _doing_ something.”

 

Harvey stepped back and placed both hands against Jim’s cheeks and stared into his large, blue eyes that appeared black beneath the limited light of the moon. “Next time, you wait for me. If we’re to die today; any day; we die together. Understood?” Jim nodded and touched his own hands to Harvey’s wrists.

 

Jim was about to say something when a commotion just up the main road from them unfolded, a winded but anxious messenger arriving to plead with Elder Watters. Elder Watters immediately turned and called lightly, “Commander Bullock?” Harvey was not going to argue that his rank was below that as he was a lieutenant. He let go of his lover and moved to where the other men stood with the messenger, Jim at his side.

 

“What now?” Harvey demanded of the messenger side stepping all social niceties in lieu of necessary information.

 

“Horsemen. From the East.” Panted the messenger indicating the soldiers were approaching from the back of the settlement.

 

Harvey tensed.  “Are they here?”

 

“They weren’t when I left.” The messenger informed placing his hands upon his knees.

 

Harvey motioned to Jim.  “Mount up; check it out, and for gods’ sake take off that enemy jacket.”

 

Jim instantly obeyed, throwing the garment to the ground before hurrying back to his horse and climbing up into the saddle. He walked the horse to where the messenger stood and held down an arm; he pulled the younger male up behind him and spurred his mount. “Tell me where to go.” He ordered as the wind struck their faces. The messenger held on tightly to Jim’s waist and guided him through the dirt streets to the church where the riders had been spotted from the tower.

 

Of course, the men weren’t flying any banners at night, and it was a small contingent of twelve men in all; all mounted and all ridding with purpose. Jim frowned and drew his sword, hearing a squawk of fear from behind him. He didn’t take time to apologize to the messenger, but did help him down from his horse. “Tell lieutenant Bullock that 12 Calvary are approaching. Go! Fast as you can!” Before the messenger could answer Jim spurred his horse onward hoping to pull the riders away from their trajectory of the settlement in exchange for the probable capture or murder of a King’s Guard Calvary officer.

 

The closer Jim rode, the riders split into two groups and though Jim tried to lead them in the direction of the mountains, the separated groupings circled him wide, slowly bringing their ranks inward. Jim halted his mount and watched them circle, slowing to a stop sword distance away and one rider broke off and walked his mount towards him. Disbelief tinged Jim’s features.

 

“Kellen?”

 

Kellen pulled his horse up alongside of Jim and reached out to grip his arm in the way warriors did.  “Jim. Thought I had seen the last of you.” He abruptly yanked Jim forward, the smile vanishing from his expression and eyes.  “Where’s Bullock?”

 

Jim looked from Kellen to the other men and noticed they each had their swords drawn. Jim immediately sheathed his own hoping that would change the dynamic but no one else moved. Jim met Kellen’s stare. “Why?”

 

“Because he’s a Lieutenant in the Kings Guard Calvary and he’s deserted his post. Our commander is fuming. We’ve orders to bring him back.”

 

Jim yanked his arm hard away from Kellen’s grip. “You’re here to _arrest_ him?”

 

“If I have to.” Kellen declared coldly. “This is a time of war Jim. Every man is necessary especially those with Bullock’s experience. Commander Dax has agreed not to press King’s charges and send him to prison, in exchange for his immediate return to the ranks.”

 

“He won’t go without me.” Jim growled feeling the fine hairs on the back of his neck rise.

 

Kellen’s lips pursed, bloodless and expressionless. “You’re of no consequence as you’re not officially a Calvary man. Didn’t sign the King’s oath did you now?” Jim stared him down, but Kellen would not be curtailed. “That’s what I thought. With or without you Bullock’s needed to lead and we’re going to bring him home.”

 

The distant sound of thundering hooves grew ever closer and Jim knew it was Harvey, there were two men on what appeared to be plow horses accompanying him with swords awkwardly held. Four of the Calvary broke the circle and Harvey motioned to the two men to stand fast as he walked his horse forward and stopped before Kellen and Jim.

 

“Kellen?”

 

Kellen’s smile returned and he grinned at Harvey. “Commander Dax ordered us to retrieve you. As long as you come back to the battle and lead the men, you’ll be forgiven your desertion. Refuse? We have strict orders to capture you and bring you back for court martial.”

 

“Bless the gods’ and all their creations.” Harvey cursed resting his hands upon the pommel of his saddle. “I’ll accompany you. After I help Jim get vengeance for his settlement. The Doggens fuckers are on their way here now; I can’t leave these people defenseless.”

 

Kellen considered his words and looked from Harvey to the men surrounding them and back again. “My orders didn’t say that I had to bring you in the instant I saw you. Our swords are yours Lieutenant.” Harvey watched as all twelve of his men saluted him and in unison pledged their swords.

 

Touched, he swallowed and addressed them all. “This isn’t your battle. It’s mine and Jim’s. I’ll think no less of any man that withdraws right now. It has always been my honor to serve with each of you, and I have never knowingly put you in harm’s way if there is no command too, and I won’t start now.” He waited as the men were permitted to silently consider their fresh vows.

 

Kellen asked, “Why is this your battle as well?”

 

Harvey looked from Jim back to Kellen and the rest of the men. “He’s my heart mate.” There was a moment of silence and Kellen once more struck his fist against his chest, yet this time held it there in a demonstration of implicit loyalty. One after another the rest of the men in the circle did so as well, and Jim felt his eyes prick with secondary tears at their devotion to his lover.

 

“Thank you.” Jim praised them seeing how affected Harvey was by their pledge of swords.

 

Harvey began to bark orders and the twelve riders followed him back into the settlement, with Jim and the two militia men bringing up the rear.

 

Chapter Six: Vengeance

By midmorning the first sign of the Doggens advanced scouts appeared. They were thirty men strong to Harvey’s thirteen; and he wasn’t counting on any of the militia to fight. He assigned them to finish the evacuation into the mountain trails their people knew as well as the faces of their loved ones. The settlement wasn’t fortified, had no wall, water way, nothing of use in a siege. They could use a few carts and try and create some defensive offering, yet it would be quite small and in the end trap them right where the Doggens could lead them like lambs to the slaughter. It was better; more practical; Harvey calculated, to fight in the open. His thirteen Calvary guard against fifteen Southern horsemen. There was also ten infantry, and five archers to address, which was better to face than to hole up and allow the enemy to burn the settlement and its people to the ground. The throats slit in the night had been another ten men, and that little blessing didn’t go unappreciated. They were still outnumbered two to one, yet those odds were something that each man could work with as they had faced it before. Even Jim; who was new to war; had faced off with more than one opponent. The archers worried Harvey the most, as they could cause the greatest damage from a lengthy distance. They were the bane of the Calvary, even more so than the pike men of the infantry. Harvey took suggestions before giving his final orders and the men began to check their armor, weapons and horses before taking their positions. The Doggens were in visual sight and hesitating several hundred feet away accessing their own threat.

 

Harvey turned Jim too him and checked his heavier armor for fit, his hands ever moving and his eyes quick to judge. He left his hands upon Jim’s shoulders and initiated eye contact. “There will never be, any battle more difficult than this one.” Harvey promised him softly. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead, one hand at the nape of Jim’s neck, the opposite pulling him close.  “Stay alive.” He urged before pulling away. “And remember, I love you.”

 

Jim nodded. “You stay alive too; and remember; **always**.” Jim swallowed, his throat constricting around the emotions raging through him. He embraced Harvey and the two men parted and climbed onto their mounts. Jim gave Harvey a knowing smirk. “Stay close.” He instructed turning his horse in the direction the battle was to take place, walking it a few yards ahead of Harvey’s mount before the older man followed.

 

It was the anticipation that killed a man faster than any weapon. The fear seeping into the bones was difficult to shake, but Jim refused to allow it to be absorbed by his body. Instead he utilized his anger as a shield. And glared at the approaching Southerners as if his will alone could defeat them. The was no parley, no blessings from priests or commanders; there was only the order to charge and Harvey permitted the enemy to make it’s run first before giving the order to fight. He didn’t grant the men any witticisms or encouragement; they were professional soldiers and knew their jobs. They had chosen to be here, to fight for him and by extension Jim; which meant everything. They were fighting for their people and the Southerners were fighting for bounty that wasn’t theirs to own.  Calvary clashed as the Southern infantry and archers marched ever closer, arrows having flown early as not to hit their own men. Soon enough their numbers would be felt, but for now the battle field was fairly even.

 

Jim fought like a mad man, nearly chopping his sword into his own horse twice, and once one of Harvey’s men. The smaller numbers meant the fighting itself was far more savage; personal; and Jim had his sights set upon the Southern commander with the long scar down his face. That was the man who gave the order; who encouraged his men to rape, pillage and destroy everything and everyone Jim had ever known, and therefore responsible for all the blood on the ground and funeral pyres.  Harvey knew the man was a hard target; protected by at least two elite warriors and they would be difficult to get through to face the commander. He heeded Jim’s previous advice and remained close to him; more to protect Jim from himself rather than any external harm. The previous battles they had fought in together Harvey had instructed Jim to be his shadow and now the tables were turned Harvey found it more difficult to follow than to lead. He was preoccupied with Jim’s safety now more than ever; it was a struggle to push it from his mind and immerse himself in the battle before him. If they survived this, Harvey hoped that Jim would wish to walk away from soldiering and serve as a King’s Guard blacksmith and leave the rest of the fighting to Harvey. He doubted his heart mate would stand anywhere but at his side, so until he was released from duty Harvey was trapped as a soldier.

 

Jim was reckless and embittered, yet he used the brunt of his fury to propel him forward and annihilate his enemy. When he brought his sword down, up or thrust it through, he injured catastrophically if he couldn’t land a lethal blow the first time. He called upon every lesson he had ever been taught, the muscle memory, his anger and he let go of it all allowing it to wash over him as he engaged the Southerners in a bloody dance.  He certainly caught the eye of the scarred commander ridding just behind the infantry with two of his most senior warriors. Even across the expanse of the battle ground their eyes locked momentarily and Jim pointed his sword at him in hatred and silent communication; he was coming for him, army or no; he was coming. Jim was covered in perspiration and blood by the time he Calvary broke and the infantry arrived. At this point, there was no advantage to fighting from horse back as most of the war horses were either dead or injured. The close quarters combat was some of the most dangerous fighting there was and Jim threw himself into it heedless of anything around him but the enemy. He was blind to Harvey, to the rest of the King’s Guard fighting alongside of him. He only had eyes for slaughter and for the scarred commander.  Any wound he sustained was only dull background noise as he pushed forward on adrenaline and hatred.

 

The Southerners had claimed six of Harvey’s men and he realized they were in trouble. The Southern Commander and his two lackeys were now climbing down from the saddle and engaging the remaining fight on the ground. This would be their last stand, either side would walk away with near to complete loss the way they were engaging one another. No mercy; no second thoughts; nothing but carnage. It was something his infantry captain had screamed in his face more than once in basic training, and it was a mantra he clung to and silently willed his men to follow. Jim was at his back and Harvey was doing everything in his power to keep Jim protected from behind. Whatever was in front of him Jim would have to address on his own. Harvey was an auxiliary extension of Jim’s sword now. Nothing else mattered but keeping Jim from being struck down while killing any threat around them. There were no orders to give anyway, now it was just a melee of warriors clashing to the death, the Southerners just as determined as the North men.

 

Harvey hazard a glance in Jim’s direction and saw that he was nearly through the last line of defense before engaging with the commander and his two guard.  “Kellen!” He summoned knowing the man was at least still breathing as he had just seen him. When they locked gazes, Harvey motioned to the two lackeys and shouted, “Left!” in direction. Instantly Kellen was on the move as Harvey swung right; the two of them going to clear the path for Jim once and for all. On some level Jim realized what Harvey was doing and he focused his sights completely upon the scarred commander.

 

“You!” He screamed at the bulk of man. He was just a bit larger than Jim, had piercing blue eyes and dark hair past his shoulders. His beard was short but it was more than obvious that his temper was far longer. He could be patient; he was calculating and Jim meant little to him past an annoying fly in his ear. It amused him that Jim was so determined to reach him and his smirk of an expression televised this effectively. When Jim was nearly too him he roared, “Ironshire was my home until _you_!”

 

The scarred warrior leered at Jim. “One settlement is the same as the next.” He held his hands out from his sides welcoming Jim closer. “Either way, you will not stand long _boy_.”

 

“Your name!” Spat Jim now within striking distance. “I would know who murdered the innocents of Ironshire!”

 

The scarred man’s smile lessened. “You talk too much, boy.” The commander flicked his wrist of his sword hand and Jim was scrambling backward, a cut opened on his cheek. It went ignored as Jim readied himself, stood his ground and glared. The scarred commander spat in the mud created by bloodshed and sneered at Jim. “Time to kill you.”  He went for Jim’s legs this time but Jim could defend himself. It was a barrage of strikes and Jim yielded enough ground to move but refused to grant an easy victory. He would not be pushed back towards the North’s previous line or be distracted by rapid execution of the scarred man’s offense. There was only the two of them now and Jim trusted Harvey and the remaining King’s Guard to do their jobs.

 

Swords locked at the hilts the scarred commander growled into Jim’s face. “My name is Amnelmond. Tell the gods’ when they judge your deeds how I gutted you like a harvest pig and ate your flesh.”

 

If the words were meant to frighten Jim they had the opposite effect. He was only enraged, not due to pride or arrogance of his abilities and self-worth; but for the wasted lives of Ironshire and all the other settlements Almnelmond’s men had razed. “When they judge you? Tell them I grant them your head as an offering.”

 

Amnelmond laughed at this and the battle continued, words no longer necessary as weapons flew and strategies were implemented. Jim took nothing for granted and instead of over thinking, or instinct he merely existed within his rage. He trusted it to guide him out through the other side, be that his death or Amnelmond’s. He was abruptly calm and centered as he allowed circumstance to lead him. He knew he was incurring wounds but he barely felt them, singularly focused on the moment as he was. He thought of the faces of Jovens, Father Ricktius, Brother Melvin and all the others of Ironshire that were awaiting vengeance. Their lives had been stolen from them, their homes, they were tortured and raped; murdered brutally one and all. Jim had done what he could to lay them to rest, but this final act would put them to peace within his mind and with the gods. Harvey, Kellen and the others who had chosen to fight now, he owed an additional debt of gratitude that he would not be denied in the making. It was not for himself; he realized; that he now fought, but for Harvey; for Ironshire; for the men, he rode with in the King’s Guard Calvary. It was for the people of the North and their lands that he now fought.

 

Amnelmond did not know Jim’s name, but he knew that he was fighting a man with nothing to lose and that was the most adverse opponent one could ever face. The battle had somehow come down to the two of them and Amnelmond would be damned if he was going to be gutted by some nobody soldier seeking his vengeance for a settlement Amnelmond had never even known the name of. Around him his men were rallying and the protective barrier they could place between him and the rest of the King’s Guard was welcome, that way he could toy with Jim as long as it pleased him. Yet with the intensity that Jim was fighting Amnelmond was rapidly losing his amusement. No matter how many times Amnelmond randomly attempted to injure Jim enough to bleed him weak, the other man managed to push through the pain, the blood loss and continue to dog him. Amnelmond grunted and drew his dagger so he was now fighting with both that and a sword. The next time they were in close proximity he would use the dagger and put an end to Jim’s dreams of vengeance. Yet to get into close range was proving ever difficult. Deciding he had, had enough Amnelmond began a series of offensive strikes that had Jim losing ground. Jim brushed shoulders with a redhaired man, fighting Amnelmond’s second in command the slightest of flashes in Jim’s blue eyes told Amnelmond that he had drawn some semblance of strength from that one point of contact.

 

Amnelmond drove his dagger deep into the redhaired man’s back, as far as the light armor, chain mail and leathers would permit. The man still howled in agony, right arm dropping and with his left he used his sword to finish off Amnelmond’s second. Such was the way of war; he would be replaced and Amnelmond looked to see Jim’s expression falter. He pushed the redhaired man out of the way and advanced on Jim. What strength Jim had drawn from the unimportant redhaired man, Amnelmond was about to bleed out of him.

 

Jim felt anger well up with in him so vast; so intense that he saw red at his peripheral and lost himself to it. A guttural cry of rage bubbled up from the center of his chest, tore through his throat and out of him before he advanced on Amnelmond. He saw nothing but the man’s face, heard nothing but the sound of white noise, felt nothing but his rage as he reached out for the man who had caused him nothing but pain. Again, and again, and again Jim struck, swinging and thrusting his sword blind to anything that wasn’t Amnelmond. He was roaring, screaming unintelligibly as he advanced, his blade a flurry of rage induced strikes that had Amnelmond slipping in the blood covered ground and over a corpse: Jim continued his furious assault.

 

The next sound that Jim was aware of was someone screaming his name from an ever-growing close proximity, until he looked up into Kellen’s blood spattered and worried expression. “Jim! It’s over. Jim!” Kellen grabbed at Jim’s arms and steadied them. “Stop. He’s dead.”

 

Stunned, Jim looked down and realized that he was on the ground, crouching over Amnelmond’s body and stabbing him repeatedly in the chest cavity, with his father’s sword. Jim was coated in blood; some of it his own; and he shook off Kellen and by extension some of his rage. He had lost his battle ax somewhere earlier in the melee and made to decapitate Amnelmond when Kellen stopped him once more. “Jim; please! Harvey needs you.”

 

At that the fog of rage cleared somewhat and Jim blinked at Kellen. “Harvey?”

 

Kellen nodded and pulled Jim away from Amnelmond. “Leave him.” Jim permitted himself to be drug several yards to where he saw Harvey on his knees, leaning forward against another Calvary member. Jim dropped to his own knees immediately as he shoved the other man away from Harvey none too gently.

 

“Harvey?” Jim held Harvey’s face in his hands and the older man tried to say something, but merely grunted as some blood wet the right corner of his mouth.

 

“Is, he dead?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim informed stroking Harvey’s face. “We did it. He’s dead.”

 

Harvey nodded and coughed, wheezing for air as he moved to press his forehead upon Jim’s shoulder. “We won.” He sighed and was silent.

 

“Harvey? Harvey!” Jim looked around and yelled at the second Calvary guard. “Get that horse!” He looked at Kellen next. “Get that other one! We’ll get him to the church infirmary and have a healer treat him.”

 

“Jim,” Kellen reminded as he hesitated. “We sent all the people up into the mountains.”

 

“Then I’ll go find them! Now get the goddamned horse Kellen. Move!” Once he was alone Jim placed a kiss beside Harvey’s ear and whispered to him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you. Remember your promise Harvey; don’t die. Yeah? You gotta stay with me and you’ll be treated by a healer in no time. But you have to be strong now.” Jim kissed him again and when the second Calvary man returned, the two of them put Harvey up in the saddle and secured him to it. Kellen arrived and wished to pull out the dagger but Jim refused, telling Kellen to get Harvey to the church as quickly as possible. Jim left the second Calvary officer in charge of the wounded on the battlefield and had to scavenger for a third horse. There was one that was wounded by could still run and Jim mounted it and tore off towards the mountain. He knew he was most likely pushing the horse towards death but it’s life didn’t matter to him when weighed against Harvey’s.

 

He pushed his horse up the mountain until the terrain was to rocky, thick with trees and at such an incline the horse could go no further. He left the beast to graze and rest, madly scrambling into the trees and up the mountain side. He abruptly came to his senses and stopped, breath heaving, panic choking him and he forced himself to listen; to orient himself. He spied a goat trail through hypervigilance alone and made for it, following it to the best of his ability until he heard someone draw a sword and looked up to see two bowmen and a weary famer staring at him.  Jim drew his arms up slightly, hands away from his own weapons and said, “I’m King’s guard Calvary we won the day but I need a healer. I have wounded at the church waiting.”

 

“We, won?” Asked the famer clearly not one of the militia Jim was expecting.

 

“Yes.” Jim stated sharply with authority. “Now get me that healer. There are men who bled for you in need of care.” The farmer hurried off with one of the bowmen while the second; one of the militia lowered his bow and addressed Jim.

 

“I saw some of the fighting.  The Calvary is better than I ever dreamed.”

 

Jim dropped his hands feeling his body vibrate with anticipation of the farmer’s return with one of the Brothers of the church, who would most likely be the town’s healer.  “Once we leave maybe you should come with us and make the King’s oath to become of the archers. They’re always looking for good men.”

 

“Oh this?” The man said holding his bow up slightly. “The strength it takes to pull a long bow I’ve not got.”

 

“But you could.” Jim responded quirking an eyebrow at him. He hadn’t come here to engage in small talk and it was surreal doing so soon after the stress of battle. “How far away are the others?”

 

“Not far.” The bow man answered. “We sent the women and children ahead, but most of the men held back. Just in case the militia needed us.”

 

Jim nodded recognizing the order having come from Harvey more than it would have one of the Elders; those men; in Jim’s limited experience were more interested in saving their own skins then that of their people. Perhaps in this settlement it was different and Elder Glockton and Myers had been exceptions. It seemed to take forever for Elder Watters to arrive with a small group of townsfolk following him. He immediately moved to Jim.

 

“Jim, by the gods my young man. Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your victory!”

 

Perhaps not so different, Jim realized as Elder Watters reached out for his hands. Jim angrily smacked the Elders’ hands away from him and growled. “I’m not here to exchange niceties. I need a healer and I need one **now**!”

 

“Er, yes. Of course.” Elder Watters motioned and a Brother stepped forward. “This is Brother Mills, son of Elder Mills. He’s your man.”

 

Jim granted Brother Mills a quick nod and grabbed his arm, yet addressed the rest of the gathering.  “You can all come down from the mountain. We’ll need carts to retrieve our wounded. Fresh bandages, water and food for the men. Bring everything to the Church, and the carts to the battle field. The day’s not over yet.” Leaving no room for argument nor questions, Jim drug Brother Mills down the goat trail and shouldered off a couple of tree trunks as he strode back to where he had left the horse. Going downhill was far easier, and now that he had Brother Mills the important thing was to get him back to the church as soon as possible.

 

“Uh, Jim; sir. Sorry I don’t know your rank but, I’ve only been studying healing for a moon cycle. There’s a woman in Blyton Bay that I learn from.” Jim’s grip tightened on Brother Mills’ arm and he continued walking.

 

“How far away is Blyton Bay?”

 

“An hour. Not far.”

 

“You’ll start at the church and I’ll ride to Blyton Bay. What’s the woman’s name?”

 

“I, I don’t know. We’ve always called her Grandmother.”

 

Jim grunted in determination. “We’re wasting time. Faster Brother. You’ve got work to do.”

 

Jim had Brother Mills mount onto the horse and sent him ahead at full speed back to the settlement. He then began to run back in the direction of the church thoughts only of Harvey. He had to make it back to him; had to make it to Blyton Bay, and bring the Grandmother back again.

 

Chapter seven: The Healing

When Jim arrived, out of breath and thirsty beyond reason, he sought out Brother Mills in the church. Kellen pushed a water skin into his hands and Jim drained half of it, Harvey’s resting place in full sight; before he made it to the examination table’s edge. “Harvey?” He pleaded touching the man’s face with a bare and trembling hand. “You still with me?”

 

Harvey managed a weary smile. “Where you been, Jim? Got waylaid by bears or something?”

 

“No.” Jim half laughed half exhaled. He stroked Harvey’s hair back from his face.  “I gave my horse to Brother Mills to get here to you.” Jim leaned forward and kissed Harvey’s forehead tenderly. “He needs me to go a settlement over and retrieve their healer.”

 

Harvey winced as Brother Mills cleaned around the knife wound. Kellen and a couple of the other Calvary men had stripped Harvey of his armor, chainmail and leathers, so when Brother Mills arrived he could pack the wound with a poultice. He had done so but his face was nearly just as pale as Harvey’s and a thousand times more concerned.  “Send someone else.” Harvey tried to reach for Jim’s hand but in an instant Jim’s was there squeezing his own reassuringly. Harvey’s gaze swept up to Jim’s. “Stay.”

 

“Alright.” Jim nodded, chest aching as his gaze filled with tears. He could see how tired Harvey was and it terrified him. Was his lover asking him to remain at his side because he feared he would expire soon? Or did he just want what comfort Jim had to offer? Jim sniffed and tears remained unshed as he pushed all thoughts of death away. “Kellen then?”

 

“Grant.” Harvey corrected. “Kellen needs to lead.”

 

Jim nodded. “Grant then. I need to tell him; send him on his way.”

 

“Stay close.” Harvey pleaded the dried blood at the corner of his mouth shining bright with new droplets. Jim wished he knew enough about healing to push Brother Mills out of his way and get to saving Harvey. He was far too young; their meeting far too new; for Harvey to go before the gods for judgement.

 

“I promise.” Jim whispered his vow and called to Grant who was conversing with Kellen and another farmer who had stayed behind when the evacuation began. Once Grant reached his side Jim repeated what Brother Mills had told him. A map of the local topography was procured from the church library and Grant was given directions to Blyton. In the end, the framer left with him, willing to help and they took two Calvary horses and raced off into the early afternoon. Jim remained beside the table, only pausing to remove his own battle regalia with help from Kellen at Harvey’s behest. He managed to drink more water; Harvey as well; but neither of them took any food. He kept beside Harvey, nursing him as he was able. There were a few other men that Brother Mills was able to aid, but Jim didn’t spare them much thought; even as grateful as he was for their support; for all he could concentrate on was Harvey. He kissed the man’s hand for what seemed the thousandth time in the past half hour and Harvey grunted.

 

“What? What can I do for you Harv?”

 

“Stop being anxious for one. For another, would you just tell me what’s so wrong that you can’t sit still? I’m not gonna die.”

 

Jim wanted to believe it; did so with all his heart; yet he was still frightened it wouldn’t be enough to save Harvey’s life. “Grant; he’s not back yet with the Grandmother and I, I should be doing _something_ to get them here faster.”

 

Harvey chuckled then coughed up a little blood. His hopes of doing so without Jim noticing, were delusional and he sighed softly when Jim wiped the fresh dribble from his lips. “You can’t speed up time. But if it makes you feel better, just go already.”

 

Jim squeezed Harvey’s hand. “You asked me to stay.”

 

“I’m not scared anymore.” Harvey assured Jim softly only so he could hear his words. “Go.” Jim placed a loving kiss to Harvey’s cheek and tenderly stroked his hair.

 

“I’ll hurry.”

 

“I know.” Harvey’s smile was pressed but Jim believed, and within seconds he was gone. Harvey’s eyes fluttered closed and he breathed deeply, the breath catching in a series of wheezing, punctuated by a wet cough. Perhaps it was best for Jim do be doing something, as he was a man of action rather than words. If anything, Harvey didn’t have to fight to appear that he was better than he was. “Beautiful idiot.” He whispered relaxing his muscles upon the examination table. He was lying face down, his head turned and one cheek pressed against the edge of the table. He was tired.

 

Jim took the freshest horse available and pushed the beast down the dirt road in the direction of Blyton Bay. According to the map the settlement was indeed by the water’s edge; an actual bay; where traders mingled with locals to buy and sell goods before heading up to the ports of the King’s hearth fortress. He was riding nearly forty minutes when he spotted Grant and the farmer on their return journey, the plow horse of the farmer now pulling a hard-oak covered caravan cart behind it. They were at a walk and nowhere near going fast enough for Jim’s liking. He pulled up to them and stopped his mount, the horse puffing and shaking its head at the abrupt stop as it panted.

 

“This is the Grandmother?” Jim asked Grant, glancing at the pile of clothes upon the driver’s bench alongside of the farmer.  The tiny woman wore thick, woolen clothing, hard, leather boots, and a cowl that served as a cloak. Her face was shadowed, yet from what Jim could see there were deep ruts in it like river valleys on a three-dimensional map.

 

The old woman pushed back her cowl with an oak tree like gnarled hand, her eyes the hardest, most piercing blue Jim had ever seen. They were the ocean and the sky all at once with their colors and seemed to glow. Yet that was just his imagination; he knew this; as the woman spoke. Her voice was smooth, deep and eternal as her face and hands.

 

“And you are the heart mate of the wounded one.” It was a statement, not a question and Jim found himself capitulating with respect rather than in demand. Grant and the farmer both immediately looked at the old woman, as that had not been information they had imparted to her when they had approached her in Blyton.  “Let us not waste time then. She rose to stand and waited for Jim to catch up with her intentions.

 

Jim looked from her, to Grant, to the cart, and back again to Grant before addressing the Calvary man. “Give her your horse. You can ride back to the church with the cart.” Jim saw the Grandmother blink once in his peripheral and he added a gentle, “Please.” Grant immediately obeyed, climbing down from his horse and walking it over to the cart. He and the farmer then helped the old woman transition from the driver’s bench onto the horse’s back. Once this was accomplished grant released the reins and the Grandmother patted the horse and it walked over to its brethren and Jim. Jim quickly turned his horse and pressed on its sides to get it to trot off, raising gradually to a canter, the other horse at its side. The woman could ride, so at least that was fortunate. He hoped she wouldn’t need anything out of her cart, for if they had to wait for Grant and the farmer to return Jim was going to explode.

 

They rode in silence, Jim pushing his mount and thankful that efficiently the old woman did the same. Within a half hour they were back at the church, Jim’s horse ready to drop and the old woman’s panting and lathered from the race. Jim helped her down from the horse, finding she was sturdier than he first imagined, but light; and led her into the main chamber of the church and back through the building to the infirmary room. Upon laying eyes on them Brother Mills immediately relaxed, ever grateful and rushed to the old woman.

 

“Grandmother, oh; blessed be the god’s mercy! You’ve arrived.”

 

“I have that.” The woman dismissed by patting Brother Mills’ hands. She disengaged herself from him and moved to the examination table where Harvey lay. Jim immediately went to the man’s side and stroked his face.

 

“Harvey? I’m here.”

 

Harvey blinked his eyes open and attempted a smile. “Rushed time, huh?”

 

Jim kissed him upon the forehead. “Yes.” He felt the Grandmother standing right at his side and Jim moved away. Harvey’s gaze attempted to focus on the old woman who pushed back her cowl and unclipped the cloak. She handed it to Jim without looking and washed her hands in a bowl of water Brother Mills provided her with. She took Harvey’s face in her hands and looked him in the eye, moving a candle closer to see his irises.

 

“Mmm.” The woman mused stroking her thumbs up Harvey’s cheekbones. She then gently released his head and rested it back down upon the examination table. She began to check the poultice and frowned deeply at her findings. She placed her left hand across Harvey’s eyes and stated gently, “You need to sleep the sleep of the dead for what I need to do to heal you. Will you place your trust in me, boy?”

 

“I will.” Harvey wheezed and Jim tensed at the unnatural sound threading through his lover’s voice.

 

The Grandmother produced a vile from somewhere inside of her sweater sleeve and uncorked it. The hard smell of clove tinged the air briefly and she held the bottle to Harvey’s lips. “Drink.” She instructed tipping the bottle up, as a garnet colored substance poured between them. Harvey did as he was asked and the Grandmother spirited the bottle away once it was emptied. She uttered some instructions to Brother Mills and he went away quickly to collect the things she had asked for, while Jim helped to reposition Harvey on the examination table. His head hung off the top edge, face down still, and Jim gently pillowed it against himself, preparing for the long haul as Brother Mills returned.

 

He was utterly horrified when the old woman opened the wound further and used some type of small bottle, stretched with taught hide bulb and used device to absorb the blood like a leach. She took a sewing needle and thread next, humming to herself and singing songs of the old gods while she worked. Brother Mills used the device when he was instructed too, and felt his stomach twist in fear. Hot water was poured into the wound, drained, and the blood added back from the glass jar. The Grandmother sewed the wound closed and placed a poultice of moss and ground herbs upon it before wrapping Harvey tightly in clean bandages. She then called for more water and gently washed him from his hair to his toes, Jim and Brother Mills helping to strip him and reposition his body at her behest. When this was finished he was moved to the recovery room, placed in a bed with sheep pelts and hay filled mattress and clean linens. There Jim sat bedside vigil as the Grandmother prepared more moss and herbs for the bandage changes and tonics for him to drink that contained a heavy amount of garlic. She sang and uttered prayers the entire time and kept a motherly eye upon her patient. Once she was finished making Harvey’s salves and potions, she returned to the infirmary and tended to the rest of the wounded with Brother Mills acting as her assistant.

 

Jim walked the room quietly and watched Harvey sleep, sometimes fearing that his breathing had stopped, but in every case, when he checked there was a subtle rise and fall of the older man’s chest. He stroked Harvey’s hair, his face and hand, and placed gentle kisses upon his brow. He whispered to him lovingly and made promises he had every intention of keeping, if Harvey just healed. Early evening Brother Mills brought Jim some food and he ate alone at Harvey’s bedside. This accomplished he checked on the other men and found their conditions much improved and he sought out the Grandmother. Grant and the farmer had long since returned to the settlement and the Grandmother’s caravan cart was parked alongside of the church’s herb garden.

 

Jim knocked upon the small door, not daring to step foot upon the four stairs that lead from the ground up to it. He waited patiently for some signs of life from the cabin, and was about to give up when the door opened. Multi-hued blue eyes stared down at him.

 

“I wanted to thank you, Grandmother. And ask how I am to repay you for your healing of my heart mate.”  He knew enough of the world to understand that what was given was paid for in some fashion or another.

 

“Do you give yourself for others?” She asked him in the old tongue. Surprised to hear it directed at him; Jim nodded and answered,

 

“My entire life.”

 

“What will you offer an old woman who has aided you?”

 

“Whatever she asks of me.”

 

The Grandmother frowned. “What will you **offer**?” She repeated firmly.

 

Jim shifted and wondered what the right answer was; oft times in the language of the gods there were specific responses to questions, and Jim had never run across this scenario when he was learning the language back in Ironshire’s library crypt. Not knowing what else to say he went with honesty.  “I would offer whatever I felt would give her comfort and ease in her old age. I have skills as a blacksmith and a soldier, I’m handy at fixing things. I am certain I can be of use.”

 

The Grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “Would you give your blood?”

 

“Yes.” Jim answered solemnly. It was the most sacred part of himself that he had to grant her, or anyone.

 

The Grandmother nodded. “Return to your mate. Sing to him; tell him the stories of your people; of his own people. Remind him what he no longer has if he surrenders to death and judgement before the gods. Tell him of your hopes; of your futures; don’t waste your time with an old woman’s needs.” Jim’s lips parted to say something but the Grandmother closed the door of her covered cart and Jim stood in abrupt silence.

 

As he walked back in the direction of the infirmary, he planned on returning in the early morning to see what use he could be to the Grandmother anyway. Harvey would expect it and it was the right thing to do. For the night however, he would sit vigil at Harvey’s bedside and follow the old healer’s advice.  Occasionally he was interrupted from whispering to Harvey by Kellen, Brother Mills and even Elder Watters to check on Harvey’s condition. The older male slept heavily through the late afternoon to the early morning hours. Jim had fallen asleep for a few minutes and woke up with a start as he felt fingers stroke his short hair.

 

Jim’s entire face lit up at seeing Harvey’s eyes open. “Harvey.” He greeted, voice rough from over use.  “How do you feel?”

 

“Like I was dragged by horses for a thousand hours.” He smiled slightly as Jim took his hand. “Water?”

 

“Of course.” Jim rose quickly to stand and retrieved some fresh water for Harvey, having filtered it from the well water he had been brought hours before. It was a trick Father Ricktius had shown him as a child. All that was required was a container and a finely woven cloth piece to fit over the top of said container. He held the jar carefully for Harvey as the man lifted his head and drank. “Slowly, there you are.” He kissed the top of Harvey’s head and sat back down, placing the jar on the floor beside the legs of the stool he sat upon. “After sunrise, we can see if I can find you some decent potage. Then I should really check on the Grandmother.”

 

“Whatever she asks for in payment, give it to her.” Harvey insisted softly. “A woman like that? Who knows healing like she does? Can curse you. There’s more than healing to know; there’s the dark ways and she smelled of the earth.”

 

Jim cocked his head to one side and regarded his lover. He didn’t recall the Grandmother as having any particular scent, but if Harvey was convinced he smelled something then Jim believed him. “I don’t think she harms people unnecessarily, but I’ll heed your advice. I went to her yesterday and asked what she would like as payment, but she didn’t exact one.”

 

“We’re fucked.” Groaned Harvey dreading.

 

Jim stroked his hair. “Stop worrying. I told you; I’ll talk to her after I get you something to eat. Just like you I don’t think it’s right not to thank her properly by use of trade.”

 

“Did you offer her your blacksmith abilities?”

 

“Yes. Now stop it.” Jim leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “You need to rest, not freak out about something neither one of us can force on a knowledgeable, old, lady.” Reluctantly Harvey relented and took another few sips of water before he closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of Jim stroking his hair. He was in severe pain but he didn’t feel feverish which he knew was a good sign. The wound hurt like a son-of-a-bitch but that was to be expected. He wanted to roll over onto his belly but if he had been placed on his back it was for a valid reason.

 

The last thing he remembered before falling asleep again was telling Jim that he loved him, and hearing the same in return. A few moments later, Jim was fast asleep as well.

 

The sky was gray, there was a light mist and Jim was outside in the deathly quiet. He placed a hand upon his dagger hilt and scanned the area for movement; there wasn’t any. He walked towards the forest line and still he heard nothing; not even the shift of the earth beneath his feet. He climbed a ridge and at the top of it was a vast, green, field. The mist was thicker and he walked several feet before he caught sight of a shape within the opaque murk of the cold fog. It was the caravan cart, sitting in the middle of the field. Jim went to it immediately and listened; the sound of an owl nearby startled him.

 

“Has it brought you peace?” The old woman’s voice asked him and Jim turned abruptly to see her standing before her caravan.

 

“Has what brought me peace?”

 

“Vengeance.”

 

Jim considered his answer carefully; again, he was honest. “With Harvey hurt, I haven’t had time to think about it. But if I had to say so now? No; it hasn’t brought me peace. Satisfaction at the time, but that’s fleeting.”

 

The old woman nodded, her face seemed far less haggard, and like a dry apple: younger somehow. “Will you seek vengeance again?”

 

Jim pulled his lips into his mouth and looked away from her for a few seconds. Would he? Given what had happened in Ironshire? He couldn’t help but think about the few battles he had fought with the King’s Guard Calvary and how senseless they had seemed past remaining alive afterward. Sighing softly, Jim turned back to the Grandmother but she looked like she was merely ‘Mother’ now. Her hair was no longer gray. Her long braid to her waist was raven black, and her skin pale as the moon. She was beautiful, slight of build and he could see that even though she wore oversized clothing.

 

“No. I’ll seek justice instead.”

 

Mother smiled; her lips pink, cheeks flushed and Jim realized she looked like a Sister now more than a mother.  “At your hands? Or the laws of the gods?”

 

“Neither: justice in the King’s court.” Jim replied wondering where her line of questioning was going. She was beautiful, but he felt no sexual desire for her. He had Harvey now and the man was all he wanted. She smiled at him as if she knew his thoughts; or at least was pleased by his answers.

 

“Who would you die for?”

 

“Harvey.” He felt it to his soul, but there was more to say so he declared it. “The innocent.”

 

She took a few steps towards him, her movements grace on earth; her features beautiful. “Who would you live for?”

 

“Harvey.” Jim stated without needing to think about his answer. It felt right and he watched her circle him once, twice; four times. He could see that she was considering something; some private conversation she was having within herself and he saw the moment she came to her sought answer. She stopped circling him and addressed him.

 

“My name is power and I give it to you freely. Guard it well, and speak it like a prayer only in times of greatest need. The gods will be listening. Vow to me you will do as I say, Jim.”

 

“I promise.” Jim responded earnestly.

 

The Sister returned to the Mother; and from there to the Grandmother; her voice filling his head. “I am, _Natalka_.”

 

Jim woke abruptly, gasping for air and immediately noticed the candles had burned out and the sun was shining through the planks of the window shutters. Jim swallowed and looked at Harvey, his features peaceful and lax. Heart in his throat he reached out and placed a hand gently across Harvey’s forehead; it didn’t feel fevered and he breathed a sigh of relief. Jim rose from the stool, muscles stiff and back and neck aching, as he placed a gentle kiss upon Harvey’s forehead.

 

“I’ll get you that potage.” He said softly moving to the room door. Casting a wishful glance back over his shoulder he made his way to the church kitchens. There he discovered a few Brothers scurrying to make the wounded food and Brother Mills immediately went to Jim’s side.

 

“There you are, how is your master Harvey this morning?”

 

“Asleep.” Jim stated wearily but offered him a thin smile. “But I don’t feel a fever on him.”

 

“Good, good. The Grandmother is the best healer I know. She knows the old ways; the ways of stone and earth. She’s very wise.”  Jim didn’t disagree and said nothing permitting Brother Mills to continue. “Come, the potage is ready. Be certain to take some for yourself as well as Harvey. It’s very fortifying.”

 

“I will.” Jim promised unable to envision himself carrying two bowls back to Harvey’s recovery room instead of one. Fortunately, Brother Mills was far too busy giving orders and scurrying around the kitchens and the infirmary to take much notice of Jim after that. When he returned to the room Harvey was just waking up. Jim gave him some more water, got him the night waste bucket to relieve himself in, then settled down to feeding him. At first Harvey balked at being fed like an infant, but quickly gave up his protest when exhaustion weighed him down into logical reason. Jim took advantage of the lull and after Harvey ate at least a third of his potage and drank half of the water jar, did he polish off the remainder of the food and carry the bowl and spoon back to the kitchens. From there he exited into the church gardens and approached the covered cart, only to realize that it was no longer where it stood next to the herbs. There was indenture in the dirt from the wheels, but the cart itself was gone.

 

Jim hurried back into the church and found Kellen speaking with the Father and a couple of Elders. He waited for an opportune time to interrupt them and pulled Kellen aside.

 

“The healer; Grandmother; where is she?”

 

“In the infirmary, as far as I know.” He frowned at Jim. “Why?”

 

“It doesn’t matter.” Jim thanked him and went in search of Grant. Upon voicing his concern Grant informed Jim that she had left during the night, and that he had hitched up a plow horse for her to the cart, which Kellen had; in Harvey’s absence; approved funding to purchase from the farmer. The horse was both payment and gratitude for services rendered to the King’s Guard Calvary. Disappointment shown heavily upon Jim’s face and he tracked down Brother Mills to complain to him.

 

“She’s done all she can. The rest is up to us now.” The Brother reminded Jim, a little offended that the implication of the simple tasks of changing bandages and applying salves and administering tonics as instructed by his mentor, were beyond his capabilities. Jim pat him on the shoulder in way of apology and returned to Harvey’s private recovery room and sat down beside the bed once more. He explained the situation to Harvey who frowned deeply.

 

“She’s going to curse us.”

 

“She won’t.”

 

“How can you be so sure?”

 

“Because,” Jim swallowed, his cheeks coloring as he muttered, “I had a dream. She told me her name and she seemed pleased with me rather than offended or angry.”

 

Harvey tried to sit up a little and winced in pain. Jim helped him by rearranging the pillows behind his back against the wall at the head of the sick bed. “Wait, what? She _told_ you her **name**?” His lover nodded. “Jim, that’s like sacred, knowledge of the gods type of magic. Healers like her just don’t tell you their names. Names have power to them and, fuck, that’s **big**!” He searched Jim’s skeptical features. “Do you remember it?”

 

“Of course, I do. I could never forget it.”

 

“Well for god’s sake don’t use it. We owe her a debt of gratitude as it is.”

 

Jim nodded in agreement.

 

They stayed the winter and the first days of spring in the settlement until Harvey had healed sufficiently to travel.  Before the first snows Kellen and the remaining Calvary Guard returned to Commander Dax with a written oath from Harvey claiming that he would rejoin them as soon as his injuries permitted. Commander Dax sent a return message and a junior Calvary man to make certain that occurred, as well as a directive that if the extent of Harvey’s injuries left him unable to fight, he would be put to work as a strategic analyst behind the battle zone. Jim was all for the transitionary job, just ecstatic that Harvey would not be serving jail time for desertion.  When it came time for Harvey and Jim to be on their way, the townsfolk of Poplar Ridge threw them a combination marriage and going away feast; the priest of the church blessed them and Elder Mills sent his son along as a medical recruit for the field surgeons. The four rode out of Poplar Ridge before sunrise the following morning and Harvey couldn’t say he wasn’t glad to be on his way. While he had enjoyed not being active in the ongoing war, he was wearied of the incredibly small township and their praise of him and Jim. He had visions of settling into a town that was significantly larger than Poplar, and live there as relative unknowns for a while instead of heroes.  Commander Dax welcomed Harvey back, and had Brother Mills and Jim sign the King’s oath and put them all to work. The war with the Southerners was not relenting anytime soon, yet as long as Jim and Harvey faced it together; there remained hope.

 

 


End file.
